Bound By Contract
by MichaelJacksonFan227
Summary: A Michael Jackson fanfic. Michael presents an interesting business proposal to Christina and she accepts. Now they are bound by contract for a long time. Will they make it? Rated M just in case.
1. Chapter 1

"Bound By Contract" By, MichaelJacksonFan227

It is my first ay at my new job and boy is it hard. No wonder the girl I am replacing had quit. Luisa, the head maid here at Neverland Ranch gave me all of the hardest responsibilities. Probably because I am the new girl. Luisa seems like a bitter middle aged woman. I wonder how hard she will make this new job for me. Maybe it is an initiation test, to see if I can handle the job. But I can handle anything. Anything when it comes to this job. I'm the best damn cleaning lady there is! I'm young, I know, but at twenty-five I think I can call myself the best at what I do. I love what I do.

We are in a twelve foot by twelve foot shed where all of our cleaning supplies are kept. Our brooms, mops, cleaning agents, rags, dusters, and gloves are neatly arranged on shelves. We also have a sink and a wash board to wash our mops and rags.

"Christina, you are to dust everything in two rooms daily, until you finish all the rooms. It'll take you a week to finish all the rooms, and when you finish you start over again," Luisa tells me. I look at her in disbelief. She's not serious, is she? "Everyday after you finish dusting your two rooms, you are to mop the kitchen and living room. On Saturday mornings we all wash windows."

I run my hand through my dirty blonde pony tail. I can feel the sweat already building up on my forehead. I look over at my fellow co-worker, Rachel, who barely beats me in seniority; bend her head down trying to hide a smirk. Luisa had probably put her through the same thing when she got here. She didn't seem bitter like Luisa, though, she just looked pretty damn proud of herself for not having to do what I have to do.

Luisa hands me a brown plastic bucket with a duster, a rag, a cleaning agent for windows and one for wood and a pair of gloves. I put the earphones of my iPOD and take the bucket and make my way up to the main house.

I decide to start on the left wing of the house and work my way to the right. It seemed like an easy plan. I go up the stairs half admiring and half lamenting all of the artwork, statues and knickknacks as I go along. 'I'm the one who will be cleaning all of this,' I say below my breath.

On my way to the very last room on the left wing, I hear the heavy footsteps of a man's boots coming up the stairs quickly. I swiftly rip out the earphones from my ears and shove them into my pink sweatpants. The only footsteps that could possibly be coming upstairs are that of my new boss, the King of Pop himself, Michael Jackson. I suddenly felt nervous; I'm going to finally meet him! Will he like me? Anyone who ever said anything about him only had nice things to say. Just then Michael rounded the corner of the staircase and came quickly towards me. I want to smile, but I notice he is distracted, angry even, and doesn't notice my presence. Either that, or he's ignoring me. I'd better just keep on to my business. Michael probably gets enough staring from people on the outside; he doesn't need it in his own house. I turn around, making my way to the last room when I feel he whoosh of air as he rushes past me. I'm almost to the door when it suddenly slams in my face. Whoa, the first day on the job and I get a door in my face. 'Good sign, Christina,' I tell myself.

I notice my collegue, Rachel across from me in the upstairs hallway bathroom. She is also looking in the direction of the door that was just slammed shut with a look of surprise mixed with sadness. She notices me, and I sort of shrug my shoulders as if to say, 'What just happened there?'. She motions to me with her hand to come to her. I put down my bucket of supplies and inched toward her.

"Don't you know," she whispers into my ear softly. If she spoke any louder, our boss would be able to hear us from his room.

"No, what happened?"

She gave me a little push on my shoulder. "Have you been living in a cave somewhere? It's been all over the news."

"No, I really have no-"

We are interrupted by Luisa's shrill voice, "Back to work, you two! No gossiping on the job!" We both turn obviously surprised, to find Luisa, a stout woman, with brown eyes, skin and brown hair up in a tight bun, with her hands on her hips, looking at the two of us with disappointment on her face. Rachel twirls around, and continues her duties in the bathroom. The room I was supposed to go in is occupied, and to get to the next room I need to go past Luisa, so I just stand there. Like an idiot.

Luisa grunts something and turns toward the staircase and makes her way down it. I pick up my bucket and go into the next room. What a great way to make a first impression, Christina. And the day as only just begun!


	2. Chapter 2

After that unfortunate first day on the job, I all but collapse onto my bed, exhausted. The rooms I dusted today weren't so big, I mean, the bedrooms in this house are gigantic compared to any other house I had worked in, but the dining rooms and living rooms are just humongous. I find it very amusing that someone would have a house so big that they would need three people to maintain it, but what is more amusing is that the three of us, Luisa, Rachel and I are only responsible for the main house and its five bedrooms. There are another five people that take care of the bungalows and various other buildings. Neverland is a huge ranch, and not only does he have eight cleaning people while most homes have just one. He has gardeners, veterinarians, a personal doctor, nannies, hair and makeup people and bodyguards. You name it, he has it. I guess all of our efforts and Mr. Jackson's great imagination is what makes this place the beautiful and magical place that it is.

Or was. Or that's what I was told it was going to be when I found out I got the job. I'm originally from Los Angeles, some three hours away, and I've always been a neat freak. I didn't go to college after high school because it seems that school just isn't for me. Don't get me wrong, I love to learn and I love to read, but on my own time and at my own pace. The school setting just doesn't appeal to me. Right out of high school I entered a cleaning service agency, where I cleaned houses for some well-to-do people. I was good at it, the clients loved me, and I earned more than I would at any other menial job that was out there for me. I even got hefty Christmas bonuses from my bosses at times. I had good referrals and was known for being a hard worker.

So when a request came in to the agency from Neverland Ranch for a hard worker who was trustworthy and a good spirited person, I was the one the agency sent. Marissa, the owner of the agency, told me, "This is a chance of a lifetime. Not only will your salary be increasing tremendously, you'll find a family there. Everyone is so close, and Mr. Jackson is the best boss you can ever ask for." _Hmmmm._ Then why am I not feeling the love now that I'm here?

Suddenly it dawns on me that Rachel told me back at Neverland that something happened reagarding my new boss and it was all over the news. I get up from my bed and make my way into the living room of my small apartment that I rented in Santa Maria, a short drive to Neverland. I turn on the television in hopes to catch anything that might have anything to do with my new employer. I flip through the channels with my remote, yawning and rubbing my eyes. I find nothing, so I walk back into my bedroom and flop myself back onto my hard bed. 'Tomorrow is another day,' I say to myself out loud as I pull my scratchy pink covers over me and fall fast asleep.

I have the earphones of my pink iPod in my ears blasting some good Michael Jackson music. Hey, I'm here in the King's house, I love his music, so why not, right? Listening to music while I work always gets me going.

I have started my dusting in the library today. I shake my duster on top of all the books, so the pages don't get dirty on top. Nothing looks tackier than a bunch of really dirty books. And boy does this man have a ton of books. Some of them I've read, some of them I want to read and others I have never heard of. Where does he find all the time to do all of the things he does? After I finish with the books I take out the wood cleaner and start on the furniture, while singing 'Billie Jean' and shaking my butt to the rhythm.

I turn around to dust the long table behind me, when I notice Luisa standing just inside the room with the classic what-in-the-world-are-you-doing hand on her hips stance that she always does. She was shaking her head in disappointment. I smile and take the earplugs out of my ears ready to hear her reprimand. What's wrong with a little singing while you work? As long as the work gets done, right? Instead of her reprimand, I hear giggling behind Luisa. I look behind her and she swirls around. We both find Mr. Jackson with his hand to his mouth to try to cover his obvious amusement at my show. '_Oh my God, Michael Jackson just heard my little song and dance number. How absolutely embarrassing.' _I look down ashamed, blushing, turning as red as a beet.

Mr. Jackson says to a shocked Luisa whose hands are still on her hips. "Don't worry, Luisa, let her dance, just as long as she doesn't knock anything over." He giggles again and then leaves. Luisa shockingly changed her expression to a pleasant one when she saw her boss smile. _So she __can__ smile._ I smile, returning my earplugs back into my ears. Mr. Jackson yells from the hallway, "Luisa, come here for a minute." She leaves the room then, but not before shooting a poisonous glance my way.

I still wonder what is going on in this house; I know there has to be something that I am missing. This isn't the pleasant house that people have painted it to be; I feel a whole lot of tension here. Nevertheless, Michael's smile can melt an iceberg it is so warm. He is so much more handsome in person than in any photo I have ever seen. Even when he's angry, which he seems to be a lot.

Later that afternoon, I am done with my work for the day, wholly satisfied with my performance. Sooner or later my abilities will shine through, even if I am personally disliked by Luisa. My work will speak for itself.

I am walking out of our shed after putting away my supplies, closing the sliding door behind me. I tie my blue hooded sweatshirt to my waist, enjoying the warm late afternoon air. Rachel comes towards me to put away her things like she was done for the day, too. "Hey Rachel, you done too?"

She smiles warmly. "Yeah, all done. Hey, you're done quickly, too, seeing all that you have to do, Christina."

I laugh at that, and after Rachel sees me laugh, she feels comfortable enough to laugh, too. "Don't worry, Rachel, I know I got a big work load on me because I'm the new girl. I'm okay with it," I reassure. Rachel looked down shyly. "I'm starved, though. You want to go get some dinner with me?"

Rachel's already big brown eyes grew bigger. "Sure!"

We went to a Coco's Restaurant and Bakery in Santa Maria where it turns out we both rent. We sit down and look at the menu. I already know what I want. Every time I go to Coco's, which is quite a lot, I always get the same thing, the Angus Steak and Eggs. Rachel, on the other hand, looked a bit indecisive.

"So, Rachel, how long have you been working at Neverland?" I ask, sipping at my ice water that the waitress sets out for us.

"Well, I've been there about two months," she says pausing while she closed her menu and put it down in front of her. She continued, "Just before the scandal hit."

"What scandal? I'm sorry; I must be under a rock or something." I am a fan of Mr. Jackson's music, but not an obsessive stalker type fan that knows everything there is to know about him.

Rachel laughed. "Oh my goodness, Christina, I can't believe you've never heard what happened. It was in every paper, magazine and on every news channel." The waitress stops at our table asking if we are ready to order. Perfect timing, lady. "I'll have the Angus Steak and Eggs," Rachel orders.

I look at her with a smile. "I'll have the same thing, please." As we hand over our menus to the waitress, Rachel catches my glances and giggles, too.

"I always order the Angus Steak and Eggs when I come to Coco's," she announces. We both giggle. We might get along just great.

"So what is it that happened?" I insist. Rachel shifts in her seat.

"Michael had done an exclusive interview where some guy followed him around for months. He lied to him, telling him that he was going to show the world that Michael wasn't a freak, and Michael trusted him. He thought that this was what the public needed to hear to clear his name of everything that he had been accused of. The interviewer, his name is Bashir, I think, ended up twisting Michael's words, and the finished product made him look like a monster and a child molester."

"That is unbelievably horrible," I say, shaking my head, my eyes wide in disbelief. I look down at the empty table in front of me.

"Ever since then, he's been either angry or sad, and shut up in his room or study all day. Luisa told me that it wasn't even this bad when the child molestation charges happened, but now it is even worse. I remember when I got here, I was the new girl, so I had all of your chores," she says pointing at me. We both smile as the waitress came and sat our food in front of us. I grab my knife and fork and start to dig in. "Things were so nice then, Michael would joke around and laugh all of the time. He was not only our boss, but one of us, one of our best friends," she continued looking down sadly. "But after this happened, things changed so suddenly, so drastically, that some of us couldn't take it. A few people quit. Including the person whose place you took."

For some reason my appetite vanishes. I can't bear to take another bite. "It just hurt too much for Vanessa, the maid who left. It is hard to see someone you care for and consider a good friend hurting like he is. But you can't be there for him. He shuts everyone out. To see him go from loving to angry and slamming doors and yelling was too hard for some to take." Rachel picks up her knife and fork and eats the rest of her meal in silence. I, on the other hand, can't touch my food. I sit there, contemplating what I was just told.

**Michael's POV**

"Luisa, can you come here for a minute?" I yell. That girl was too cute the way she moved singing Billie Jean. Her voice isn't the best, though. I laugh.

"Yes, Michael?" Luisa's voice snaps me out of my thought. My face turns stern. I don't want anyone to see me weak anymore. Not ever again. No one is to be trusted.

"It's Mr. Jackson from now on. Yeah, the new girl, what's her name?"

"Her name is Christina." Luisa looks at me curiously. Why is she looking at me that way? I don't know. I don't care. I turn without a word towards my study and shut the door firmly behind me.

The afternoon is hot and muggy, so thank God for central air. I turn up the knob of the air conditioning monitor. Peeking through the closed blinds of my window I can see my children Paris and Prince playing happily in the distance. Children are so innocent. I wish I could disappear and become a child again. I have tried to do just that, but the disappointments of reality always pull me back to being an adult. I sit down in my comfortable chair, turning myself around in it. All these days and nights I have spent alone and locked away have not been in vain. Things cannot stay how they are. There must be a way to fix this. People cannot think that I am this sick child molester when all I have been doing is helping sick and needy children. I can't bear to _not_ help them; I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. No. There has to be a way to fix this mess and I think I have already found it; I know what I have to do. Unfortunately, my lawyers do not think it is a good idea at all. They've spent hours and hours trying to talk me out of it. But then again, they weren't very good at advising me to do the Bashir interview, were they? I'm tired of people telling me what to do. Now I do what _I_ think is right for _me._ No more pushing me around.

I pick up my gray cordless telephone and dial Mark Geragos, my lawyer. "Geragos, start typing up the paperwork necessary because I'm going through with it. Get over here tomorrow so we can work out the details." Without a response, I hang up the phone. I don't want any back talk from anyone. I'm not in the mood.

I am thinking about the new girl Christina. She is beautiful. I should have some sort of rule about having beautiful girls work for me. She is tall, slender and has beautiful warm blue eyes. I wonder how long she has been working for me. I have absolutely no idea. Any interest in any minute detail in my household has been lost to me. I take out a notepad and pen from my desk and start scratching out a rough outline for Geragos tomorrow. Everything has be perfect.

7


	3. Chapter 3

Bound By Contract – Chapter Three

**Christina's P.O.V.**

Two weeks go by and I have finally set for myself a work rhythm that is manageable. I think Luisa is just ticked off that I am able to adjust so quickly. Who knows what her problem is. Maybe it's that I still sing and dance while I work, but I can't help it. For me, music makes the time fly by and makes it fun. It doesn't give you a chance to think that you're too tired or you're too lazy to do something. While listening to music, you just do it. Either that is what's bothering her or the fact that I have caught Mr. Jackson watching me work. He is always serious though. I wonder what he is thinking. Poor man has gone through so much.

I arrive ten minutes early for my shift today and it's exceptionally hot outside. It's not supposed to be so warm up here in Santa Maria, but today seems like it is as bad as Los Angeles in July. I almost bump into Luisa on my way into the shed, because I am looking down while tying my sweatshirt around my waist, leaving me in my white fitted tank top. The breeze felt so good against my skin. "Oh, sorry," I say, brushing by Luisa. "Good morning."

She looks at me with what seemed like disgust. "Good morning, Christina," she says forcing the words out of her mouth and rushing past me with her broom in her hand as if she couldn't bear to see me a second more. I turn to Rachel and we both laugh out loud, which causes Luisa to turn around in the distance. She probably thinks we're laughing at her, which of course we are.

Rachel cups her hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "Man, Luisa really doesn't like you, does she?"

"No, I guess not," I say, rolling my eyes and we both laugh again.

"Hey, Christina," Rachel calls as we head towards the main house together. "You know something? I've seen Michael check you out."

My eyes widen. "No you haven't," I exclaim punching her playfully in the arm. I can't say I don't get excited at that thought. Michael Jackson checking me out? I know that I am considered by many people to be pretty, although not exceptionally beautiful like you would expect someone like him to be checking out.

"I'm serious," she repeats.

"Well he _is _a man, Rachel. Men do that. I don't think anything of it," I lied. I really do want to think something of it. I think Mr. Jackson is extremely sexy.

Later on, as I am cleaning in his study, I can't get Rachel's comment out of my head. I _have_ noticed him looking at me once or twice, but then again I _am _new, and I do sing and dance a lot, so it would be kind of hard _not _to notice me. But Rachel noticed it too, and she didn't say that he was looking at me. She said 'checking me out'. But I shouldn't get my hopes up. I wish I could stop thinking about this, one, because it's a stupid thought, and two, it's also slowing me down, so I turn up the volume of my iPod, but not even Kanye West's Electric Relaxation blaring in my ears can take out the incessant thoughts that are swarming around in my head.

A light touch to my left arm startles me so much that I jump. To my horror I see Mr. Jackson's face close to mine when I finally turn around. I can't back away because his desk is directly behind me. I take out my earphones and put my hand to my heart as if I were to slow it down that way. "Mr. Jackson, you scared me."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, Christina."

"No, no," I say trying to breathe because I am still quite shaken. "It's okay. Can I do anything for you, sir?" He still doesn't back away and is practically on top of me.

"Yes, I was looking for you, actually. I couldn't find you, you're always all over the place," he said, looking a bit nervous, glancing over his shoulder to the open study door as if he is worried someone would see him. "Um, are you busy tonight?"

I shake my head. Even if I was busy, I wouldn't be busy for him. I'd cancel dinner with the President if Mr. Jackson asked me to. "Can you come over around eight, then?"

"Yes," I say, confused, yet excited.

"Oh yeah, and don't tell anybody about it, okay?" he adds. I want to let out a scream, but I hold myself steady. "Okay. See you tonight," he says turning around and walking out of the door, only his sweet scent remaining, leaving me stunned and immobile. Luisa walks by the open door slowly and narrows her eyes at me, as if to say 'I saw everything, and I've got my eye on you.' Rachel follows after her and rolled her eyes at Luisa, then laughs silently only to disappear into the room right after her. That made me laugh and relaxes me a bit. Luisa is just plain crazy.

I take a deep breath. Does Mr. Jackson expect me to get any work done now? I sigh heavily and turn towards the desk, continuing to clean it with wood cleaner.

After my shift was over I meet up with Rachel back at the shed. In these past two weeks I have gotten pretty close to her. She is the sweetest person you will ever meet. And she is the only friend I have made since I arrived in Santa Maria.

"Hey Christina, I was thinking, since it is Friday, we could go out tonight. What do you say? Hit a club, get a few drinks, dance with a few guys. You and I both deserve to get out." Her plan sounds good to me, but I know I am meeting Mr. Jackson later. How could I forget, when that is the only thing I could think about all day?

"Oh, Rachel thanks. It sounds fun, but I sort of have plans."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Oh, did you meet someone that I don't know about," she asks interested.

"Um, sort of," I say, uncomfortable. I wish she wouldn't ask so many questions. What am I talking about? She only asked me one question. I guess I am just nervous because Mr. Jackson asked me not to tell anyone. I'm not good at lying. Calm down, Christina.

She nods in approval, "Well good for you, girl. I'll see you tomorrow then, at the window cleaning."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, I can't wait," I say sarcastically. We both giggle.

I stare into my closet, terrified. What should I wear? I think he's seen me in enough sweatpants, considering I wear one every day to work. Should I dress up? Dress sexy? Did he even ask me out in the first place, or does he just want to kind of welcome me or something? What would he ask me there for at that hour? A million thoughts run through my mind at once. I decide to go casual. If he is interested in me, all he's seen me in is sweatpants anyway, so a pair of white jeans, a gray sweater and some black boots wouldn't be too dressed up and it wouldn't be too frumpy either, and it would show off some of my curves nicely. I iron my long blond hair and gussy up in the mirror. I know I should have eaten something earlier, but I can't even think about food since I feel so nervous and nauseated. I look at my watch and it's already seven thirty, time to go. I grab my purse and head out of the door, to start my half hour ride to Neverland Ranch.

**Michael's P.O.V.**

Geragos, with all the finished paperwork in his hands is pacing back and forth anxiously in my study. "Calm down, Mark. Have a seat."

"I can't, Michael, I can't," he says still pacing. "I can't when you're about to make a horrible mistake."

I lean back in my chair with a smile on my face. "No, Geragos, the horrible mistake I made was when I let Bashir into my life," I remind him. "Where were you to advise me then?"

"I... I... Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. You know, to let people see that you're a normal person," Geragos said nervously.

"That was some great advice, Mark. You see, I know now, well I guess I've always known that journalists can be scumbags. They'll take your trust and twist everything around and mold it into whatever they want it to be to make their story." I sigh. "What little bit of normal I had left in the public's eye flew right out of the window with that interview."

"But don't you think going through with this plan will make things even worse?"

"Maybe at first, Geragos, but I have to stick with it. It's a good plan," I argue.

"I still don't understand why you feel you have to do this, Michael," Geragos pleads shaking his head, finally calming down enough to sit himself down in the chair. "So much is at stake."

"I know. That's exactly why I'm doing it."

There is a knock at the door. "Come in," I yell. My aide pops her brunette head just inside the door.

"Miss Christina is here to see you, sir," she reports.

"Oh yes, tell her I'll be right there to greet her," I say, standing up and fixing my sport coat. "This is it," I tell my lawyer. I watch him shake his head as I walk out of the door.

**Christina's P.O.V.**

Mr. Jackson appears in his large kitchen where I have been waiting for him. He is absolutely stunning with his black sport coat, blue shirt and black trousers. His hair is long and smooth, and best of all he greeted me with a big smile. His eyes look me up and down obviously pleased at what he saw. I can just melt right here. I notice out of the corner of my eye that the kitchen staff whispering amongst themselves.

"Hi Christina, glad you could come," he says putting his arm around me.

"My pleasure, Mr. Jackson." My God does he smell good.

"You can call me Michael," he says as we entered his study. I am surprised to see another man already there, sitting down in one of the two brown leather chairs facing the desk. Michael leads me towards the second leather chair. The man to my right, a tall man, with gray hair and a thick gray mustache and in a nice business suit offers me his hand to shake. "Have a seat, Christina," Michael says pulling out the chair for me. "This is Mark Geragos, my lawyer. I look at him as I shake his hand, his face looks almost sad, like he didn't want to be here. For some reason I have that effect on people in this house. I look back and forth at both Geragos and Michael whose faces are both serious. Wait a minute. What am I doing here with my boss and his lawyer? Oh my God, don't tell me they think I stole something.

"You look worried. Don't worry. Relax. We have an interesting business proposal for you," Michael tells me.

I look at him leaning back in his large leather chair. "Oh, Mr. Jackson, I don't know anything about business or proposals. I think you may be talking to the wrong person," I say, standing up out of my chair.

"No, no... Please Christina, I think you'll find this proposal very interesting. It's a very simple concept. What do you say; would you hear it at the very least?"

What could I possibly offer Michael Jackson? I hesitate. I sit down. "Okay. I suppose I could at least listen to it."

"Geragos, give her the first document." Geragos takes out a thin file from his briefcase and hands it to me with a pen. "This document here just says that you won't divulge anything that is said or done in this meeting. You know, kind of like what you signed when you first started working for me," Michael says. I did sign a document that I wouldn't disclose anything that happened at the house, therefore protecting Michael's privacy. I had to sign it or I wouldn't get the job.

I read the paper carefully and then sign and date it at the bottom. It says everything that Michael had explained to me. I hand the paper back to the lawyer who inspects it carefully. I suppose he is satisfied with it since he closes the file and puts it back in his briefcase. I am getting more nervous with each minute that passes.

"Good. Now the big idea of my plan is uncomplicated," he tells me. "Geragos, give her the contract." Geragos hands me a file that looks like it has a lot of pages in it. My eyes grow big and I get scared. I don't know what I'm doing here. I fight the urge to run out of the room. "But I have carefully thought of all details and solutions to problems that may arise and it's all written in the contract. Have a read. Take all the time you need. We can discuss it after you're finished."

I take the file reluctantly and slowly open it uncovering what looked like a twenty page contract. "You want me to read all this, here, right now?"

Michael's countenance remained serious. "Yes, right now. Take your time. Read it carefully. We'll need to discuss it."

I feel both pairs of eyes sternly on me. I won't be able to concentrate. "Mind if I sit at that little table over there and read it?" I point to the small round table with two chairs around it behind me. I know the furniture here. After all, I am the one who keeps it clean.

"Sure. Whatever you need. Make yourself comfortable." I walk over to the table and sit at the chair with my back to the two men. I put the file on the table and open it and started to read.

I can't believe what I'm reading. I want to jump out of my chair in disbelief and in fright. I continued to read every word, though, until I finished it all. I make my way back to Michael and Geragos, who have been waiting for me. My eyes are wide and I am walking stiffly until I reach my chair. I sit back down and say nothing. I have so many questions. I open my mouth to say something, and I motion with my hand to help me get what I want to say out, but nothing comes out.

"Relax," Michael says, still serious. "I know this is a big proposition for you, but tell me what you're thinking."

"Is this a joke," I ask sincerely. I can feel the tears coming.

"No. No joke."

"What is this? A marriage contract?"

"Yes. I want you to marry me."

I throw myself back into the chair. I don't know what to think.

10


	4. Chapter 4

**Christina's P.O.V**.

"Can I just ask you one question?" I ask after taking a long pause, gathering my thoughts.

"Yes," Michael answers.

"Why?"

He looks down in search of an answer. After taking a long pause he finally breaks the silence. "Maybe one day I might explain that to you, but right now that is just too complicated and too irrelevant to discuss right now," he says matter of factly.

"How is it irrelevant, Michael? Everyone who gets married gets married for a reason. Some people do it for love, others for kids, others for money or status. But there is always a reason. And since I am the one you're asking to marry you, don't you think I should know why you're doing it?"

"I'm telling you, there is a reason, but it's not something I want to get into right now," Michael retorts.

"When business deals are made it isn't custom to ask the person offering a deal 'why', Miss," Geragos cut in, flashing a look at his client.

I sink in my chair. I guess I hit a nerve with him there. "Okay, I get it. But here's another question for you. Why me?"

"That is another detail that is unimportant," he responds quickly. "For now, all you need to know that you are the business partner that I have selected to work with."

All I can do is sit there. "I'm speechless, Mr. Jackson, er, Michael. I don't know what to say."

"Say yes, Christina. I know we'll make a great team." I look at Geragos, whose head is down, which I interpret to mean he isn't very confident in this business; if it is me or the mere idea of Michael's marriage, I have no idea. My eyes fall on Michael, his powerful gaze meets mine and makes me jump. I can tell by just looking at him that he is dead serious about this. I get the impression that Michael is the type of person who, once their mind is made up nothing will change it. Although I do admire him for taking charge of this meeting like he is. I would have imagined him to have sat back and let his lawyer do all the talking.

"Geez, Michael, I have to think about it. I mean, according to this contract, the deal is for five years. That's five years of my life we're talking about here," I plead.

"Yes, but it would be like anyone who ever worked for anyone or for any company for that same amount of time. It's the same thing."

"No way is it the same thing. This would mean me committing myself completely to the job. I would live this lie to everyone I know, and there's no way a new love interest or a new friend of Michael Jackson's wife would go unnoticed," I argue. I actually hear Geragos snicker beside me, which gets me to smile. But the smile quickly fades as I hear Michael's response.

"Yes, Christina, it's part of the job. If you accept, you will miss five years of your life, as will I. But I have already thought of that. That is why the recompensation I am offering is what it is. You will be well paid for your services."

My services. I shudder. Michael's indifference saddens me. I don't think he realizes what he is asking of me, and even more importantly, how he is asking for it.

"Michael is offering one million dollars for each of the five years of the contract," Geragos adds.

"You have to decide whether or not the five million dollars is worth the five years of your life," Michael announces.

I just feel so uneasy about this whole situation. Whoever is part of this grand scheme of Michael's one way or another will go down in history for a long time. If I accept, I will be written down in the list of Michael's wives. I have to wonder how in the world I was chosen for this secret arrangement. I've only been working at the house for two weeks, for goodness sakes. But is the five million worth it? Boy, just thinking about what I can do with that money gives me the chills. Five million is a lot of money, but then again, after the five years is up, what then? I will always be known as Michael Jackson's wife, or ex wife. Would five million be enough to live off of for the rest of my life? Who would give me a job if I needed to work?

"I don't think I can do this, Michael." I stand up to leave, but once again I am blocked by Michael. He puts himself in front of the door.

"Where are you going, Christina. Let's talk about this," he says, ushering me back to my seat. He sits down, and clasps his hands together on the desk. "What do you mean you don't think you can do this," he asks.

"I mean, no, Michael. No. I can't do it. This is all too much for me," I say. He studies my worried face. He looks confused. What, hasn't anyone ever said no to Michael Jackson? Probably not, from the look on his face.

"What do you mean, no," he shot back.

"I mean no," I repeat.

"Wait, Christina, why?"

"It isn't custom in a business deal to ask why the customer isn't interested in your offer," I say. So there. I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

Michael leans back and crosses his arms. He narrows his eyes at me. He must see right through me.

"I don't know, Michael, this is a life changing decision," I say. But it just might be the best decision I have ever made. My breathing is rapid and heavy. I can feel like I am going to faint with Michael and Geragos' eyes fixed on me, pressuring me into a decision. Well, I have everything to lose, and everything to gain. I look at him, his gaze unfaltering. "Yeah, okay," I say finally.

"You mean you accept?"

"Yes," I manage to choke out. I hope I am doing the right thing. I probably would never be able to live with myself otherwise. Not knowing what could have been.

Michael's face changes suddenly and drastically. He is now happy, and content. His beautiful smile flashes across his face and his eyes are lit. This is the face of Michael getting his way, I realize. It's better than him being serious, although I note he is handsome either way.

"Good. Do you want to give the contract another read? Or are you ready to sign," Michael asks eagerly waving hand at Geragos to give me the contract.

I nod my head. "I think I'm ready to sign," I say unsure of myself. I know these people are way smarter than me, all I'm hoping is that I am doing the right thing. Geragos hands me the file and a beautiful gold pen. I open the file. "Where do I sign?"

"Sign at the bottom of every page. There will be a space like this for you," Geragos points to the empty space on the bottom of the first page. They sit and watch patiently as I sign my life away on each and every one of the twenty seven pages. I hand the file back to Geragos who returns it neatly to his briefcase.

"Now let's talk about some details." I nod my head as Michael continues. "We will have a period of courtship that will last for three months in which we will pretend to be dating. It is important that everyone gets the feeling that something is going on between us, but that they don't know for sure. The people that have been around me a long time know that I am a private person and I don't talk about my relationships much, but we can't just announce our engagement out of the blue, or else it would be a little too suspicious."

"Suppose someone asks me about us," I ask, "what do I say?"

"I highly doubt anyone here in this house will," he answers. "Anyone on the outside should just know you're in a relationship. They wouldn't be able to guess with who." Michael stands up from his chair and starts pacing around the room excitedly, in front of us, behind his chair, and behind us as well. I feel as if I am in the Principal's office and about to get lectured. He has really thought long and hard about this. "At the end of the courtship you will meet my family, and I will meet yours. Remember, everyone must think this is a real relationship. Your family, your friends, even my own mother and siblings will think it's the real thing. That is important for this plan to work. You, Geragos and I are the only ones who know about this contract." Michael says sitting in his chair again. He took a sip of water from a bottle that was sitting on his desk. "We will announce our engagement then which will last two months or so, or until the wedding has been planned and set up. Then we will be married, and that is when our five years will start. So the actual contract is for five and a half years, until the five years of marriage are completed."

"Okay, sounds easy enough. But what will I do for the six months prior to the wedding," I inquire.

"You will remain working for me until the engagement is announced, and you will be paid for your work, of course. Once we're engaged, you will stay at your apartment and move in once we're married. You will be given your own room, and your own car. Oh, and before I forget, you will also be required to make appearances with me," he mentions. I am still sunken in my chair. This is too much to take in, in such a relatively small amount of time. I wipe my sweat from my forehead. "For now, I think we have settled everything we need to right now," he says as he bends down and retrieves a cell phone from his desk. He looks at it for a moment and then puts it on his desk and slides it towards me. "This is yours. It is working, and I've already programmed my phone numbers and the phone numbers of any people you might need to contact."

I take the shiny metallic colored phone, which looks brand new. It was a Samsung I330, and had just come out a couple months ago. I smiled. This is too cool. I maneuver it in my hand looking at it from all sides. I stand up, ready to leave. "Okay, then this is it, huh?" I say smiling, feeding off of Michael's enthusiasm. "I guess I'll get going now. Be here tomorrow for window washing, how fun," I say sarcastically.

Michael stands up again too, as does Geragos. The latter offers me his hand to shake. "Nice to have met you, Miss."

"Likewise," I say, shaking his hand firmly. I turn towards the door and feel Michael's arm around my shoulders.

"Let me walk you to your car," he says, opening the door for me, and I smile on cue, because I know there is a possibility that anyone can see us. We arrive at my car door and as I reach to open it, Michael turns me around, lifts my chin up, and his eyes look deep into mine. "See you tomorrow," he says softly, and he lowers his head for a soft kiss on my lips. My heart flutters. He then lowers his head to whisper something in my ear. I get chills as I feel his breath on my ear and neck. "You're doing great. I would totally buy that look on your face," he says. My heart falls into my stomach. I lower my head quickly and get into my car as fast as I can. I know that this is all fake, I have to remind myself not to get overly excited when stuff like this happens. I can still feel his lips on mine. I take a deep breath. He is an expert liar; I will have to remember that in the future.


	5. Chapter 5

**Michael's P.O.V.**

I watch Christina arrive from my bedroom window on the second floor. It's around noon, I think; and I haven't been out of my room. I like to be alone, especially ever since a couple of months ago when disaster struck. I don't like to go out and experience the pity looks from some people and I absolutely despise the judgmental looks from others. Can't I be left alone? Nevertheless, ever since my meeting with Christina last night, I feel a little better. It seems things just might start going my way.

Christina gets out of her car with heavy bags under her eyes and her hair a bit messy. I chuckle. Poor girl, she must have been going through hell last night. I reach for my cell phone and text her a message. _'Hello, beautiful.' _I chuckle again.

She notices her phone go off and she drops her car keys and her bag while digging in her pockets to finally find the phone. She reads the message while grabbing at her hair and then smiles, while texting back. While my phone starts ringing I see her looking around for me. She finds me up in my window and waves, I wave back. I look down on the message on my phone. _'Hey there yourself, gorgeous. Stop making fun of me.'_ That makes me laugh.

I look back down at her and as she saw she got a laugh out of me, she lights up. She is beautiful. I love the way the blonde hair of her ponytail falls down her back even though it is a bit messy today. She looks rather sexy in her black sweatpants which make her hips look very curvy and her black tank top which caresses her thin waist. We stare at each other for a while, not realizing we're doing it, at least on my part, anyway. I turn around swiftly from the window and put my phone away on the table. My stomach growls at me for some food. But I can't think to eat, I am so excited about this new chapter in my life that is about to start, so my stomach will just have to wait.

I sit on my bed, leaning against the heavy wood headboard with my knees to my chest hugging my fluffy pillow. I don't know exactly how I am feeling right now; I am still upset about the interview. It was damning to my character, and as much as I don't want to admit it, it really does bother me. What is the most frustrating to me is that I know I'm doing good, and people accuse me of doing bad, so I want to prove myself for whatever reason. That's all I am trying to do is to redeem myself from whatever it is that so many think about me. But unfortunately I put my trust in the wrong person and things went terribly wrong. It's been two months since the interview with Bashir aired and I can't get it out of my head. Am I really that weird? I feel that I live a relatively normal life. But if you hear something for long enough you start to believe it. Am I weird because I'm a nice and caring person? If that's the case, then everyone can say goodbye to their Mr. Nice Guy.

With that in mind, I was trying to be tough in my meeting with Christina, yesterday. I hope I wasn't too tough, though. I have enough life experience in my almost forty-five years to know that everyone who tries to put on a façade always fails in the long run. The real you comes out sooner or later. You can't change who you are. I hope I don't fail miserably, and Christina sees right through me. That's when the problems start, when people see me as 'nice.' Nice equals weak to some people, and they try to step all over me. Christina on the other hand seems genuine, what you see is what you get. She looks sweet, personable, caring and non-judgmental. But looks can be deceiving and I still have to be on guard from her. The trouble is... I'm very attracted to her.

**Christina's P.O.V.**

Rachel runs after me as I am heading towards the shed to put away my things. She catches up to me, panting, trying to catch her breath. "Hey Rachel," I say, happy to see my new friend.

"Hi, Christina, what's up? So how did you plans go last night?" I am caught by surprise. Of course she remembers. I had turned her down for drinks last night because of my 'plans.'

"Oh, they went okay, thanks for asking," I reply shortly hoping she doesn't pry anymore.

But she caught on, and took my shortness for dislike. "Oh, you aren't really into him, are you," she asks, twisting the corners or her mouth up. How do I respond to that? Do I say yes and have her want to dig more, or do I say no? But saying no would go against my contract, I think.

"Oh actually I do like him. I think I've found a winner," I say chucking my fist sarcastically.

Rachel laughs and widens her curious eyes. "Really? That's great, Christina. So what's Prince Charming's name?"

"Um, Miguel," I say quickly. It was the first thing that popped into my head. Really, Christina? Miguel? Can't you do any better than that? I am just so not good at lying. "So did you end up going out last night, Rachel," I say quickly changing the subject.

Her face lights up. "Actually, no, but maybe we can do it tonight? Tomorrow we don't work, and so we can have a few extra drinks, maybe."

I am excited at the thought. "Rachel, that sounds just like what I n…..." my phone goes off interrupting me mid-sentence. I grab it from my back pocket of my black sweats and look at it. It's a text message from Michael.

_'Christina, meet me at the swings. Michael.'_

"It's Prince Charming isn't it," Rachel says with a laugh.

"Yeah, how could you tell," I ask.

"The way your face lit up," Rachel answers. My face lit up? I would have thought it winced, but okay, maybe it did light up. Michael inviting me to the swings sounds cute. "So I take it you have plans, again," she states.

"Um, yeah, probably. But if anything changes, I'll let you know," I say, turning towards and when Rachel is finally out of sight, I start making my way towards the swings, which are almost completely across the whole length of the Ranch.

"Where you going, Chris," Rachel yells after me. "Your car is this way, isn't it," she asks pointing in the opposite direction to the valet near the entrance gate.

"Yeah, but um, I forgot something in the house," I lie. I make my way around the house and up to the swings. I decide to walk there and it takes me about thirty minutes. As I walk along the carefully laid stone paths in the mid-afternoon here I enjoy the nature that Michael works so hard to preserve.

I see Michael sitting alone on the circular swing set looking down pensively, lost in his thoughts. He doesn't even hear me approach. I sit on a swing next to him. "Hey," I say, letting my presence be known.

He turns to look at me, his head still hanging down. "Hey," he replies softly. I stay there on the swings with him in silence for as long as he needs. After a couple minutes though, he breaks the silence. "I'm leaving for Florida tomorrow for an event I am attending. It looks like I'm going to be out quite a bit these three months. I thought we could use this time we have to get to know each other a little."

"Sounds like a good idea," I say.

"Tell me about yourself, about your life before you started working at Neverland."

"Well, I'm the youngest of five children," I start. Michael raises an eyebrow of interest. "Two girls and three boys. All of my siblings entered into the military except for me. They are very over achieving individuals, and in the military they studied and got their degrees. My sister even got her master's degree and became a lieutenant commander in the Navy. They all have settled down and started families. My parents are very proud of them." Michael nods his head in understanding. "I finished high school with honors. But the fact that I hadn't applied for college or enlisted in the military bothered everyone. I felt I had done enough in school and it definitely wasn't for me," I continue.

"School is a beautiful thing. I only had it for a few years before it was traded for constant travelling and tutors," Michael reminisces.

"I did what I was supposed to do though. I felt that I had accomplished something by completing school, not to mention with honors, all the while so uncomfortable while there. I like to learn at my own pace, to teach myself. I have a library of books; fiction and non-fiction, textbooks and encyclopedias that I have read on my own," I relate, Michael looking at me, impressed. "I even taught myself Spanish through textbooks I bought for myself at bookstores. I learned to pronounce it by watching Spanish television shows."

Michael laughs in amusement and slaps his knee. "Is that right? I love to learn languages, too. Tell me something in Spanish," he dares.

"Como la brisa, tu voz me acaricia y pregunto por ti," I sing.

He laughs even louder. "No fair quoting my own song. I know that already. Say something else," he requires.

I sit there thinking. What can I say? After a minute I finally come up with something. "Que quieres que te diga?"

Michael's eyes widen and his smile is just as wide. "Whoa, I don't know what you said, but it sounds pretty fancy." Now it's my turn to laugh. "You know, you and Luisa would get along great. I can just imagine the two of you at it, yapping away in Spanish," he says, swinging in his swing gently.

I roll my eyes. "Luisa hates me," I declare.

Michael looks shocked. "Luisa has been working for me for years. She is one of the sweetest women I've met."

"She might be sweet, but when she looks at me she turns sour," I say.

He shrugs his shoulders. "You must have done something," he says, pushing me by my shoulders making me swing sideways, on my way back, I make myself bump into him slightly.

"I didn't do anything, I swear."

"Anyway, you shouldn't feel down about your parents. You can only be who you are and I know they love you for who you are, even if you can't see it yourself," he says looking straight at me.

"Thank you, Michael," I say, feeling a little bit better. He really does care about people, I can tell that about him from talking to him. This is the Michael that everyone has been talking about before the incident. But lately he's been running so hot and cold. Yesterday he was as cold as an iceberg and today he's as warm as a teddy bear. He still looks a little nervous with me, the way he looks down when he talks to me and when he laughs his nervous laugh. I can't expect him to be comfortable with me yet, as I am not with him either. I'm not even comfortable with the fact that I know he is my future husband. This is the feeling people must have felt back in the day with their arranged marriages. Thank goodness my future husband is handsome and not an ugly ogre like so many stories I have read about in books.

Night has fallen on us and a breeze picks up and it is starting to get cold. "Maybe we should get back. It's quite a walk back to the house," Michael says. I nod my head and we get off of the swings and start off very slowly together on the path that will take us back to the house. I am still only in my tank top, I didn't bring a sweatshirt because I arrived at noon, and I wasn't planning on staying so late, so I hug myself to try to keep warm in the cold Santa Maria evening breeze.

I look over and see Michael taking off his blue blazer. "You're cold, Christina. Here, wear this," he says offering me his jacket. He's left in his long sleeved white shirt.

I'm touched. "Are you sure you won't be cold," I ask as he helps me into the jacket.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine, but you're shivering."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," I say, pulling the jacket closed around my face, so I can breathe down it and warm myself. As I inhale I smell the same fragrance I smelled when he was so close to me yesterday in the study. I wish I could smell this jacket forever. We walk back to the house slowly and in an uncomfortable silence.

When we finally reach the house, I am startled as Michael reaches for my hand and laces it through his. "Let me walk you to your car," he says without looking at me, obviously nervous.

"Okay," I reply obediently.

"Like I said, I'll be leaving tomorrow, but I'll be in touch okay? Call me if you need anything," he says as we approach my car.

"Sure," I say.

There is an awkward silence. "Goodnight," he says, and he kisses me on the cheek softly. I close my eyes, enjoying the warm kiss in the cold night air. I have come to find I love the feel of his lips on my skin, even if it's pretend. Before I can say anything back, he turns around and heads for the main house.

I get into my car and start my half hour journey back to my apartment, my head spinning. I really would like to get Rachel on the phone and tell her I'm in for drinks with her; I'd love to get Michael out of my head. But I decide against it. I probably shouldn't be seen doing any of that stuff.

My thoughts return to Michael. He was completely different from yesterday in the meeting. He seemed nervous and not in charge. He appeared like he was holding something back. To me it seems like either he was trying hard to not enjoy my company, or he was trying hard_ to_ enjoy it. He's a hard one to figure out. We are supposed to be faking a blossoming romance, but to me, very deep inside me, it feels like a seed has been planted and whatever blossoms just might be beautiful.


	6. Chapter 6

**Michael's P.O.V.**

I flop myself on my fluffy bed. It feels so good to be back home after three nights in a hotel room and two five hour flights. There's nothing more comfortable than my own bed in my own room in my own house. I was in Florida because I was invited to the 8th annual Palm Beach Film Festival. The event was okay, I took a lot of pictures with a lot of people, as usual, although I couldn't keep my mind off of my business here at home, and to be honest I still can't. This is huge for me.

My mind then wanders to a couple days ago, I remember that I reached for Christina's hand and held on to it, and she held on to it just as tight. I shake my head as if to shake out my thoughts. I tell myself not to think about her, think about the plan. Romance just complicates things and clouds my mind to where I stop thinking and focusing on what I should be thinking of and focusing on.

I get off of my warm bed. There is no time to rest when there's work to do. I am meeting at the studio with Marc Schaffel who produced with me a song I wrote back in 2001 called What More Can I Give. It is for charity and I want to make some finishing touches on it, because we are to present it at the Radio Music Awards in a few months. I run into the bathroom and take a quick shower and put on some clean clothes. Feeling refreshed, I head out of my bedroom slowly, discreetly looking around in hopes of seeing Christina. Fortunately enough for me, as soon as I open my door I hear her tortured singing voice coming from the next room. I peek through the doorway; she is marching to the rhythm of my song Speed Demon and singing the lyrics to it, too. I lean against the doorway and watch her for a while but then she turns suddenly, her blonde ponytail whipping around as she turns, and sees me. She takes out her earphones and smiles shyly.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Hi," I murmur. I smile tiredly and look at her a moment longer. I want to say something to her, anything, but I become mute the instant she notices me standing right in front of her. I give up and walk away, navigating my way towards the valet where my driver is waiting for me to take me to the studio.

**Christina's P.O.V.**

This isn't the first time that Michael has startled me. I snatch out my earphones when I notice out of the corner of my eye someone in the doorway. My heart races at the sight of him. I had no idea he had returned already, because he said he'd be gone for a few days. I half expected him to call me or at least text me. I think I checked my phone a thousand times hoping to discover Michael had tried to reach me, but he hadn't. I was hopeful that at the very least when he returned he would call me aside and at least pretend to be happy to see me. But he just stands there and throws me a halfhearted smile. I don't know if he really means to smile at me, or he's just smiling because I'm smiling at him. He stares at me for a second and then just walks away. My heart that had been racing now sinks deep into my chest. It is a disappointing welcome home to say the least. I stand with my rag in my hand and feel my body go limp, and I feel like telling Luisa that I'm calling it a day. I can't believe he just walked away like that, without saying a single word to me. I guess he's running cold again today, and I try to think nothing of it, but I can't help but feel a sense of rejection.

At the end of another shift, I put my things away in the shed slowly without a desire to be here anymore, and wash my rag on the washboard. It's an old fashioned way of washing, but it's way more effective for washing rags than running them through the washing machine.

After I am finished and on my way out to my car, I feel disappointed yet again because I thought that maybe Michael would look for me after my shift is over like he did the other day. I take my cell phone out of my soft green sweatpants pocket and look at it, but my ears have not deceived me. It hasn't gone off. I tell myself that he's probably busy or something, but that doesn't make me feel any better.

I become so lost in solitary thought that I become unaware of my surroundings. As I wring out the rag, Rachel's soft voice takes me out of my trance. "Hey Christina, I noticed you look kind of down today. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I say putting the rag down and leaning against the washboard. "You know what, I do feel kind of down. I have no idea why, though. I'm sure it'll pass. I'll be fine," I admit.

"Well, if you need to talk or anything, I'm here for you," she reassures. She turns around reaching for the sliding glass door of the shed ready to leave.

"Wait, Rachel," I yell after her, she turns around. "What do you say we pick up some stuff at the supermarket, I make some dinner at my apartment and we chill tonight," I ask.

"Sounds good," she replies, smiling. I hang my rag to dry on the side of the washing board and we head towards our cars and to the supermarket in Santa Maria. We follow each other on the road and meet outside the entrance of the supermarket. We feel the cold gust of air on us as the automatic door opens for us.

"Do you like Mexican food?" I ask.

"Oh my goodness, I've been craving it forever," she replies.

"Mexican food it is," I announce heading for the meat section. I know exactly what I need, so I gather everything and make my purchases quickly. In less than half an hour we are in the kitchen of my apartment frying up thin diced steak and bacon, and boiling tomatillos and a chile for the spicy sauce.

"Oh my goodness this smells so good," Rachel exclaims as she prepares sangrias from the stuff that we bought from the supermarket. "Where did you learn how to cook this," she asks as she peers over my shoulders and into the pan. I empty the tomatillos and chile into the blender with garlic, onion, salt and cilantro to make the sauce.

"My mother is a chef and she taught me a few things," I say, pouring the sauce into the pan on top of the meat. "And how did you learn to make cocktails?"

"I worked at a bar before I started at the Ranch. The bartender there taught me a few things, too," she answered winking.

As the sauce is coming to a boil, I turn to my friend. "Hey, Rach? Those cocktails ready? Because this food is done," I say turning off the burner.

"Yep, all done," she replies placing them on the table. I serve food onto two plates and set them onto the table as well. We both sit down and start to enjoy our meal.

After four hours and way too many sangrias to count, Rachel and I are more than inebriated, on the couch in my living room and crying from laughter. I don't even know what we're laughing about, we just started and now we can't stop. All that alcohol in me sure cheered me up.

"You know, Chris, Michael, he checked you out today. I saw it. I saw how you two looked at each other. I saw it. You think I didn't see it? I saw it," Rachel slurs, pointing into the air.

"Whoa, where'd that come from, Rach," I say laughing. "I don't know what you're talking about," I continue cupping my hand over my mouth as if that way I would avoid saying anything I'm not supposed to. But eventually giggles do escape my mouth and again I begin laughing hysterically joining Rachel in her cackles.

"What do you mean you don't know what I'm talking about? I saw you two. Come on, spill," she insists punching my arm a little too hard. I scowl and rub my arm. How am I getting out of this one? I take another gulp of my sangria. I thought Michael told me that no one at the Ranch would ask me anything. Even the people who work in the evening have seen things way more compromising than just a look and they haven't asked anything. Have people been talking already? Then, the doorbell rings. Saved by the bell. Thank God someone came to interrupt this conversation, because I am not seeing a way to avoid it. This alcohol isn't letting my brain function properly. It's probably my mother at the door, do I try hard to put on a nice sober face while opening it. To my horror, I see the person standing on the other side of the thresh hold isn't my mother at all, it's Michael.

His back is turned, and when the door opens, he turns around provocatively. He is as gorgeous as usual in dark blue jeans, a long black trench coat and his trademark fedora. Michael could be in rags and he'd be just as gorgeous.

"Hey, Christina, we need to talk. Can I come in?" he says sweetly, yet another drastic change in his demeanor. But I am too horrified to notice right then. Could he have come at the worst time? I look back at Rachel who is still on the couch, her legs crossed Indian style, shoes off, her smile gone and the color drained from her face in utter shock. The complete surprise of Michael's presence knocks the drunkenness right out of us, and sobers us up instantly. He notices something is off, and he peers in past me to see who or what I am nervous about and notices Rachel. "Oh, um, hi Rachel," he says lifting his hand up shyly.

Talk about awkward.

**Michael's P.O.V.**

"I think that I'm going to call it a night, Marc. Meet me here tomorrow to finish up," I say to producer Marc Schaffel in the studio in Santa Maria. I wipe my forehead with a napkin that I had in the pocket of my trench coat.

"Sure, Mike," he says, looking a little spent himself. He tidies up his things and leaves. "See you tomorrow," he says shaking my hand firmly.

I can't stop beating myself up for not saying something to Christina earlier. I don't know why my tongue got tied. That happens to me sometimes, unfortunately. People would think that I would be good at expressing myself and my feelings, and that's true for the songs I write. The lyrics and melodies come to me sometimes, like a message from God. But that is hardly true for me in everyday situations, and even less so in romantic ones. But this isn't even a romantic relationship when I think about it, it's only business.

I look at the gold watch on my wrist. It's only 10pm. I stand up from the black leather stool from where I've been sitting and reach for my fedora that is hanging on the coat rack. It's still early and there's still time to say something to her. I've tried to be strong like I have been with my other employees and business partners, but being strong with Christina is so hard. She is just too sweet and kind. I can't feel a bone of malice in her. That just makes me the more attracted to her, and makes me want to get to know her better. But then again I'm afraid of letting my guard down. I've been hurt too many times.

Reaching into the inner pocket of my trench coat, I retrieve my Samsung I330, identical to the one I gave Christina except in black, and text my personnel at the Ranch for Christina's address.

It turns out Christina doesn't live far at all from the studio, and my driver drops me off in front of the apartment complex. The big iron gate is open; it looks like it doesn't work, so I step right in. I look down at what I scribbled down on a napkin in the car. Apartment fifteen. I find it easily, since it is on the first floor, and I knock on the wood door nervously. That's when I notice laughing from different voices coming from inside the apartment. Oh no, someone is in there with her. I'm interrupting her, and worse yet, what if they see me? Anxious, I turn around thinking it would be better to leave, but the door opens, and I turn around, face to face with Christina. I put my fear behind me, now that I am here, and muster up the courage to speak.

"Hey, Christina, we need to talk, can I come in?" I ask boldly. But she doesn't answer, she looks behind her shocked. I figured she might be surprised at my visit, but I didn't think she'd be so shocked. Obviously, she was embarrassed at my presence for the people who were there. I feel horrible now, and unwelcome. I peer in curiously past Christina to see who was there with her, and to my surprise and relief, I see Rachel, one of my employees. "Oh, um, hi Rachel, "I say waving a hand at her.

"Come in, please," Christina says ushering me in. Right away I smell the stench of liquor and I enter reluctantly. My eyes narrow at the two women.

"I think I'll get going," Rachel announces as she looks around for her shoes, slips them on and stands up. She heads for the door but sways heavily as she tries to leave.

"You've been drinking?" I ask Christina in disgust. I wanted to wait until Rachel left, but I couldn't hold my tongue any longer.

"Well, we made a little dinner and cocktails, and we got a little carried away," she pleads.

"Rachel, you can't drive home like that. I'll take you home," I say supporting Rachel with one arm and grabbing the door handle with another. "We'll talk later, Christina," I say leaving the apartment. I can't even turn around to look at her I am so appalled. It's a good thing I haven't let my guard down with her. Yet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Christina's P.O.V.**

I pull in past the Neverland gate today a bit nervous about last night. Michael seemed so angry, but I don't understand his anger. What's wrong with two adults having a few drinks once in a while? Is there something he has against alcohol, or God forbid, I hope this isn't some kind of control trip he's playing on me. Is no drinking in the contract? It might be; the damn thing is so long and so meticulously written it's possible I could have missed it.

I wonder how Rachel is doing today. She was a bit tipsier that I was. I smile. I wonder how it went with her with Michael when he took her home last night, if he was as angry with her as he seemed to be with me. I wince at the thought and shake my head. If Rachel ever wondered if there is anything going on with Michael and me, she sure got her answer last night. I doubt Michael regularly visits his employees homes late at night like that. So much for his plan of nobody knowing for sure anything is going on between us, but I sure am glad that I wasn't the one to spill anything. Absolutely nothing came from my mouth. But I honestly think in the long run, if people are supposed to believe that we have a real relationship, it's good that people see things. It's only natural that they do.

As I go through my usual routine, I am glad that I haven't had the misfortune of running in to Michael. I don't want to see him. I feel this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach at the thought. It's the same nervous feeling a school kid gets whose parents have been called because of their bad behavior, and they know that sooner or later they have to go home and face the music. I decide not to go where I think he might be, and I don't even listen to my iPod so he can't hear me and find me. I know that if I put my music on I won't be able to help singing and I will be discovered.

I haven't run into Rachel either, which is a bit strange. Maybe she is hung over. I guess I should call her later to see how she's doing.

I walk out of one of the spare bedrooms that I just finished dusting and into the hallway. When I walk past the next room which is the children's room, I see out of the corner of my eye Michael dash towards the door. He must have been in there and seen me go past. Darn my luck. I walk a little faster to try to duck into the next bedroom to escape, but before I reach the door, I hear my name.

"Christina," Michael calls out after me; I turn around grabbing the bedroom door, hugging it tightly with my right arm wanting so badly to hide behind it. I wait for him to catch up to me.

"Yes," I respond embarrassed, looking down to my white high top sneakers and twirling the hair from my ponytail around my fingers. He walks past me, into the room, and I turn around facing him.

Now it's me, facing the music.

"I'm sorry about last night," I apologize, feeling the need to apologize, but I am not quite sure myself what I am apologizing for. "I didn't know you were going to come over and..."

"You should have never done that, Christina," Michael interrupts, obviously uninterested in my excuses. I stand there motionless. I don't know how to respond. "That is not appropriate behavior for my future wife," Michael explains.

I hold my hands out in confusion. "But Michael, what is the big deal? It was just a few drinks. I'm sure your other wives had had a few drinks before they married you."

Oops. Bad move. At the mention of his ex-wives his eyes grow big in anger. "That is nobody's business but mine."

I feel like a young child being reprimanded and I don't like it one bit. "It wasn't as horrible as you think. Just a few drinks with a friend. In private. We weren't out on the town partying in public. Besides we didn't drink that much and it was early. That doesn't make me irresponsible," I say, defending myself. He's being so unfair.

"It sure does make you irresponsible. You wouldn't react the same as you would sober."

"But nothing happened, Michael," I plead. "If it bothers you that much, I won't do it again." Michael nods his head in satisfaction. "I'm here anyway, aren't I?"

Michael rolls his eyes.

"That reminds me, where's Rachel? I haven't seen her all day," I say, feeling a little less tense.

Michael looks down. "Rachel," he says pausing. "She no longer works for me."

My eyes widen. "What?" I say a little too loudly.

Luisa passes by that instant and looks over at us arguing in confusion. Michael and I both notice her and when he sees her start to come our way, he simply shuts the door, without hesitation. I look at him alarmed. He practically shut the door in her face. How rude is that? He takes me by my arm firmly and leads me deep into the bedroom and next to the window. He puts his index finger to his mouth. "Shhhh..." he says.

"What did you do? What did you say to her?" I demand in a soft voice, so no one outside the bedroom door could hear me argue.

"Nothing, I just took her home."

"Why would you fire her?" I ask angrily feeling myself getting riled up again.

"If I wanted to fire her, I would have done it, end of story," he said annoyed.

"What is your problem with alcohol, anyway? I don't understand you," I shoot back.

"I don't ask you to understand me. I just ask you to do what I say." I roll my eyes at him. "Anyway, I didn't fire her, she quit," he says before I can respond.

I am confused. "Why would she quit?"

"I don't know, maybe she was embarrassed that her boss had taken her home drunk," he fired at me. "Who knows? What does it matter? She's gone and that's all there is to it."

I can feel the tears coming, but I fight them back. "Why did you come to my house anyway? To check up on me? To see what I do in the privacy of my own home?"

Michael shakes his head and sighs heavily. He looks down almost as if he is ashamed. "You've got to get one thing straight. You will be my wife. There is no such thing as privacy any longer." I take a step back. What can I say to that? I suppose it's true enough. "I didn't go over to check on you, Christina. I had gone over to apologize."

I look up at him surprised. I wasn't expecting him to say that. "What?"

"I... I..." he starts. He starts to pace, trying to find the words to express himself. "I... um... I... oh, forget it." he says quickly throwing his hands up in the air in frustration and walks out of the door.

I stare at the open bedroom door confused. What was that all about?

The next day, I come into work and Luisa calls a meeting. I see a new girl already there to fill in Rachel's place when I walk into the shed. She is a little on the short side, dark brown skin and warm honey eyes. She looks to be about 30. She smiles at me when I walk in. She seems really sweet, but right now I'm still hurt about Rachel leaving, so when I smile back at her, it isn't as enthusiastic as she deserves it to be.

We both turn our attention to Luisa as she begins to speak. "This is Cameron, she will be replacing Rachel who is no longer with us," she says to me avoiding looking at me. "Cameron, you will take over Rachel's duties which I will explain to you inside the house. Follow me," she says waving a hand at Cameron for her to follow her into the house. She follows Luisa, obviously excited on her first day at the job.

"What," I murmur under my breath. I can't believe she gave Rachel's duties to Cameron. She's the new girl now; shouldn't she be doing what I do? Luisa whips her heavy body around and looks at me. It's as though she was just waiting for me to say something. Cameron, oblivious to our little problem, makes her way outside of the shed.

"What did you say, Christina?" she says sharply.

"Nothing, Luisa. It's just she's the new girl. Why didn't you give her my duties? Shouldn't I be given Rachel's?" I ask, completely dumbfounded.

"You will do what I assign to you, and I have already given you your assignment." I stand there rolling my eyes in silence. I'm not about to argue with Luisa, too. She has it out for me. She looks me up and down ferociously. "If you don't like it, you can go whine to Michael to try and get your way. See how that works out for you," she spits, whipping around satisfied with her attack.

"Wait a minute, Luisa, what are you trying to say?" I say forcefully.

"Don't think I don't know you're just like the rest of them. But be careful. Your kind isn't good for Mr. Jackson and he knows it. Just know you won't get very far with him."

"Oh, so that is what your wrath is about. Fine, Luisa, think what you want, but I'm here to work, and my work speaks for itself," I say, walking past her and out into the sunny path towards the house. I can't help but wonder how in the world I managed to get into an argument with both my boss and my supervisor. I have no idea how I get into so much trouble. This has never ever happened in the past. I look up in the sky as if to ask God, "Why me?"

One month has passed and I come to find out, Michael has left town. Yet again, no word on when he left, or when he'll be back. I found out he was gone from Cameron, who had been told by the chef, Kai Chase. I don't expect for him to let me know what he is doing, or at least not anymore. Not after our little tiff a month ago. I mean why should he anyway?

I haven't been feeling good these last few days. Michael is gone. Rachel, the only friend I had made in Santa Maria is gone. My family is so far away. I'm feeling very alone. I've never felt that way before, and it's not a good feeling. I've been moving a lot more slowly while I work, and have had to hear Luisa's shrill of a voice trying to push me on. It's very depressing to me to know that I am disliked here. I try so hard to be liked, but it seems like whatever I do, it's just not good enough. It makes me not want to be here anymore.

I hear my cell phone go off in the back pocket of my purple sweat pants. I still carry it around all the time, just in case. I don't think this thing has rung in a couple months. My heart jumps at the sound, and I do too, and I fumble around trying to get the phone out of the pocket.

I look at the display. A new message from Michael. I click read.

_'I'm in Indiana visiting my home town of Gary. I want you to come with me. I sent you an airline ticket to your apartment. Pack some things. You leave tomorrow.'_


	8. Chapter 8

**Michael's P.O.V.**

I hear a knock at my hotel suite door. I get up from my comfortable seat on the couch and put the notebook I had been writing in on the light wood coffee table and walk over to answer the door. I see James, one of my security people. He's a big guy and I am startled every time I open a door and find him on the other side.

"Oh, hey James, you scared me again," I say putting my hand to my chest to calm myself.

"Sorry, Mr. Jackson. I just came to tell you that Miss Christina has arrived and is in her room."

I raise my eyebrows, that news interests me. I run into the room and fix my hair a bit with my finger in a mirror. "Oh? What room is she in," I ask, straightening my green v neck t shirt around my waist.

"She's downstairs on the eighth floor in room 814, sir."

"Do me a favor, James," I say walking from the mirror back to the doorway, looking at him straight in the eyes. "Take me down there," I demand almost pleading knowing that James isn't going to want to do it. He hesitates.

"I can bring her here, sir, if you want, it would be easier. Because to take you down there, I would need at least a couple of the guys to help me just in case..." he says. I roll my eyes and push my way past him, cutting him off, and shut my door behind me, giving him no choice but to follow me. I can appreciate that he wants to look out for my safety and after all, that's what I pay him to do, but a guy needs to get out and feel like he can do something. Sometimes I feel pretty useless because I can't go out and do anything for myself, but then again being mobbed hurts like hell.

James grunts as he is forced to follow me into the elevator. We turn around and the doors shut in front of us. I look down in silence for the duration of the ride, smiling in satisfaction at my little win, James standing behind me. I look up at the illuminated numbers that tell me we are approaching the eighth floor, and I notice in the reflection of the shiny metal doors that he sees my smirk and is looking at me through his narrowed eyes, his dark arms crossed over his big burly chest. Oops he caught me. I open my eyes wide, as the doors slide open, I feel my face grow hot.

James takes his place walking in front of me, shielding me from anybody who might see me. We stop at room 814. I knock on the door nervously, and as the door opens, James walks off slowly. I love it when I have people who don't have to ask, they just know what they should do. He gets it, and I love competent people around me. I know he'll be lurking there or have someone else there until I am ready to leave.

Christina greets me with a warm smile as she sees me on the other side of the door. "Hi, Michael. Come in," she says standing aside as I walk into the small but neat hotel room. It is midafternoon, so the suns bright rays flood the room with warmth and light. Christina herself looks exceptionally beautiful. I admire the way her blue jeans hug her curvy body and the way her blue t shirt fit her snugly and shows off a little of her flat stomach.

"Thank you," I say entering the room and shutting the door behind me. "So how was your flight?" I ask politely, breaking the ice. I know we weren't on the best of terms when we last spoke. I watch her as she makes herself comfortable and sits on the king sized bed, close to the window. I follow her lead, sitting myself down on the other side of the bed.

"It was very nerve wrecking and bumpy," she says animated. "I was praying for my life the whole time."

I laugh. "Oh no, was it really that bad?"

Her expression softens. "Well, I don't really know. This was my first time flying ever. So I was pretty nervous to begin with."

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry about that. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're going to be flying a lot in the near future."

Christina puts her hands to her cheeks. "Oh no, don't tell me that, Michael." We both laugh together. I look at her for a second. She has such a sweet laugh. It's like music to my ears. "So, Michael, I flew on a minute's notice halfway across the country. Can you tell me why I'm here?" she asks grabbing a pillow from behind her and hugging it, bringing her two legs on the bed sitting Indian style.

"Mind if I..." I start, pointing to the second pillow on the bed and to my lap asking with my gesture if I could hug the pillow, too. I always love to do that when I'm having a conversation, whether it is on a bed in person or on the phone.

"Oh sure," she says, handing the pillow to me and I take it, and hug it tightly between my arms.

"Well, it's getting pretty close to our big day, and for one reason or another we've hardly spent any time together, and we hardly know each other, so what better time to do that than now?" I point out. Christina says nothing but nods her head in agreement. "Besides, I think it's about time people start seeing you with me, you know, in public so in the future it won't be like you just came out of nowhere," I say seriously.

Christina cocks her head and looks at me. "You really think things through, don't you?" she asks after a long pause.

"I try to," I answer truthfully.

The next four hours we spent learning about each other's likes and dislikes, fears and dreams and habits and hobbies. I can't help but stare at her, her full lips moving, her bright smile flashing, her hair flowing freely around her shoulders. I feel an immense attraction towards her, which grows every time I speak to her. I find out that we really do have a lot in common, like reading for instance, but I don't share everything with her, I keep most things to myself. Although I want to scream out, 'me too!' with all the joy that my heart holds, my head tells me to hold my feelings back.

I lean back and slap my hands in my lap and move off of the bed to get up. I walk around the bed to where Christina is, watching her eyes follow my every move. I offer my hand to her. "It's getting late and I'm starved. Would you like to join me for dinner?"

She looks down at my hand for a second, hesitating, and I feel bad. Does she not want to take it? Does she want to be alone or something? I feel a horrible pang in the pit of my stomach, but it disappears suddenly as Christina smiles and takes my hand, standing up next to me. "Sure, I'm starving, too," she says following me to the door, her hand still in mine, and as I reach for the handle, I twist my hand and enlace my finger with hers, and I turn around and smile at her feeling relieved. When she smiles back softly, I open the door and James is already standing in front of it, his back turned, and without another word, we are escorted back up to my suite.

The next day I wake up early, feeling refreshed. This is the first time in a long time that I have been able to sleep so soundly. I have passed a lot of sleepless nights since the Bashir scandal, tossing and turning, trying everything I could think of to turn my head off and go to sleep. After a day spent with Christina yesterday, I fell fast and easily asleep. I hear a knock at the door. It must be Christina; we are supposed to meet here to go together to the Circle Center Mall here in Indianapolis to do a little shopping. During my stay here in Indiana, I've visited Roosevelt High School in Gary and the National Cable Broadcasting Convention in Indianapolis with my brother Marlon. But today, I've planned this shopping trip especially to have Christina and I photographed together, although more likely than not, no one will make a big deal of it. Thinking that she is an employee, I doubt that anyone will notice her. But then again, when we announce our engagement, the tabloids will be rummaging through their archive of photos to see if Christina has ever been out with me. And sure enough they'll find her. And that's exactly what I want them to do.

"Good morning," she says when I open the door.

"Good morning. Come in," I say standing aside and watching her enter the room admiring her blonde curls and her tight white jeans, the same ones she wore to our meeting at Neverland with Geragos, her white tank top and her blue plaid long sleeved shirt that she wears unbuttoned and tied around her waist. God, does she know what she does to me when she wears those white jeans?

"I'm kind of nervous," she admits, sitting down on the couch.

"Don't be. We're just going to do some shopping. Normal stuff," I say.

She puts her arm around the couch and twists around so she is facing me. "Yeah, but I imagine shopping with you can be anything but normal," she says. I laugh. I start to respond but I am interrupted as there is a knock at the door. It must be James and his crew. I open the door and sure enough it is James. His tall, robust body right on the other side of the door makes me jump again, like always. I don't think I'll ever get used it.

"Mr. Jackson, we're ready to escort you two, the car is waiting for you at the back door through the kitchen as always, sir," James says. I take Christina by the hand and James walks in front of us, and another of his guys walks in back of us. As we walk through the kitchen, the staff looks down out of respect and doesn't cause a ruckus, which I'm thankful for. I have never seen the front lobby of a hotel, and this occasion is no different. I always come in and out through the back kitchen door of every hotel I've ever been in. I step aside and let Christina into the limousine, and I follow her, our bodyguards follow us in afterwards. As we sit down in the back seat, James and his man sit themselves on the side seats accompanying three other bodyguards who are going to protect us at the mall.

Christina leans close to me, and for the first time I can faintly smell the scent of her sweet flowery perfume. I close my eyes and drink it in. "You need five guys?" she asks, surprised.

"I could probably use more. You have no idea what it's like," I say opening my eyes. She nods her head and we ride the short way to the Circle Center Mall in silence. We park at the front entrance, our limousine obviously attracting the curiosity of some passers-by. As our car door opens, James and his man get out first and we follow suit. I put my aviator glasses on, and as we start walking towards the main door, the first flashes of cameras go off. I feel Christina grab my hand. I let go of it sharply. "Girlfriends don't hold my hand," I say without turning around waving at the fans who call my name.


	9. Chapter 9

**Christina's P.O.V.**

There were a few photographs being taken from random people when we first arrived, at the entrance of the Circle Center Mall, but as word spread of Michael's presence, hoards of people rushed around Michael, our five bodyguards and I. The flashing lights from the dozens of cameras aren't as blinding now that we're inside a store, and I'm not even really sure which store we're in to be honest, but the staff there upon recognizing Michael, closed down the store allowing us to move around freely and shop. Shouts of _'Michael I love you,' _ring in my ears as I follow Michael aimlessly around the store.

I'm stunned because of what Michael last said to me. The sound of his voice saying _'Girlfriends don't hold my hand,'_ repeats itself over and over in my head. What in the world was that about? He confuses me, and more than confused, I feel just plain _crushed_. He received me so nicely when I arrived yesterday in Indiana from Santa Maria. He went to my hotel room to greet me personally, which I wasn't expecting at all considering the last time we had spoken we had argued. In my hotel room we had great conversation; I learned so much about him. At dinner last night in his hotel room, I noticed apart from him being impossibly handsome, he was being exceptionally charming. I really liked the guy I was with, and naively and stupidly I thought he liked me, too. Today, the very next day he is completely different, as if the people and the cameras changed him and turned him into someone else.

"Christina. Christina," Michael calls my name. I snap myself out of my deep thoughts and look up at him. He looks annoyed. "Christina what's wrong with you?" he murmurs so only I can hear him. "I was asking you if you like this," he asks holding in his hands a sparkling baby blue diamond bracelet. Or so I think it's a diamond, I have no clue.

"Oh, yes, yes. It's very beautiful," is all I can think of replying, realizing for the first time that we're in a jewelry store. I regain awareness of my surroundings again as if I were waking up from a deep sleep. Next to me is Michael, admiring and pointing at the jewels in the glass cases, and laughing along with the store clerk. The bodyguards spread themselves out in the store; one next to Michael, two by the door and the other two roaming around the store. The muffled sounds of the crowd on the outside of the store is the dominant sound on the inside, that and that of Michael's laughter with the clerk's. Now there are security guards from the mall guarding the other side of the door. How in the world are we going to be getting out of here?

Unable to share in Michael's apparent excitement at looking at jewelry, but being conscious of the fact I _am_ here to play a part, I wander away from Michael's side and browse everything from jeweled watches, to brooches, to bracelets and earrings. Everything is so extraordinary, so delicate and so gorgeous. I never had come in to a jewelry store before. Most of the time I would always pass right by them, not even giving them a second glance, on my way to another store. But sometimes I would stop and look at the beautiful things in the windows, admiring them. It was then when I would lean forward and squint my eyes at the details of each piece; my eyes would catch a glimpse of one of the price tags. I'd freak out, and keep myself moving. I knew I couldn't afford those things then, and truthfully I didn't even covet them. My eyes light up as I come to the realization that with five million dollars in my bank account, I can afford to pick out and buy anything in this store that my heart desires. But, I have to burst my own bubble of excitement. I can't blow money on jewelry. I'll probably need that money to last me a long time. I shake that idea out of my head.

"Christina, hey, come here, would you?" Michael calls waving his hand at me from across the store. He holds his hand out as I approach him, and in it he holds an exquisite diamond ring in the shape of a butterfly, with yellow diamond wings and a white diamond body. Michael hands the ring to me. "Try it on. Let me see how it looks on you."

I slip the cold heavy ring on my finger. It fits my finger perfectly. It is in a shiny platinum setting and is surprisingly heavy. "Wow, this is very nice," I say, gyrating my wrist around to watch the ring sparkle in the store's dim light.

"I'm thinking of getting this for my mother as a gift," he explains, holding out his hand for me to return the ring to him. I slip it off and place it into his open palm. "What do you think?" he asks sweetly. Wait, isn't he supposed to be annoyed with me? Humph. I give up trying to understand him.

"I think she'll love it," I say without emotion. I don't understand how to react to such an unpredictable person. I'm trying to follow along as best I can.

I wander off again, looking at the blinding reflection of so many diamonds in the cases, losing myself again in my thoughts. It's an unbelievable realization that in one instant I am the focus of Michael's undivided attention, and the next I am shoved aside. I know that this is all a charade, but is it so wrong that I thought maybe something might come of it? From some of our times alone together I became very attracted to him. He seems so sincere, so sweet, so innocent and pure. Somehow I thought he was attracted to me, too. He holds my hand and talks to me so sweetly when nobody is around, when it's just me and him. If anyone else is around, whether it is one person or a crowd, he gets tense; he shuts himself up and is plain cold. I have to wonder, who is the real Michael Jackson?

"Come on, Christina, let's go see some more stuff," he says walking past me, and I take my place walking behind him, and we walk out into the craziness that the Circle Center Mall has become.

**Michael's P.O.V.**

"What's wrong, Christina, you look like you've been out of it all day," I insist, sitting next to her on the couch of my suite, turning myself towards her.

She stares straight out in front of her and looks down into her lap. "It's nothing, really," she says unconvincingly.

I don't buy it for a second, but I choose not to push the topic further. I don't want to upset her more than it looks like I already have. After studying her for a few moments, her blue plaid shirt brings out her crystal blue eyes, which seem to be focused on her shoes at the moment. She has her silky blonde hair carefully smoothed back into her ponytail, she is fidgeting with her hands in her lap and she is tapping her shoe nervously. I know that something is wrong; I am not that oblivious to that fact. I inch myself closer to her on the couch and put my arm around her, on the couch behind her. After a few seconds of sitting in silence, which to me feels like an eternity, I ask softly almost whispering, "Are you sure it's nothing?"

She looks up at me from her lap; her eyes fill up with a look of utter confusion. Tears well up in them as she studies my face furiously. "Are you serious?" she demands shaking her head her blue eyes drill into me. She stands up suddenly then, not giving me a chance to say anything. All I can do is sit there and watch her in disbelief as she wipes away a tear quickly that has escaped her left eye so that I might not see it. But unfortunately I do, and my stomach knots up. I stand up too, unsure of exactly why this is happening. "I'm just going to head off to my room," she says pointing towards the door with her thumb, backing up slowly. She is trying so hard to put on a calm face, I can tell, but Christina is the kind of person who wears their heart on their sleeve. Anyone can clearly tell when she's upset. When I don't respond, she turns around disappointed and leaves the room swiftly. I just stand there, my heart screaming for her not to go, for us to just sit down and talk this out but my body freezes up on me. I slap my forehead in frustration and fall back onto the couch.

"What did I do, what did I do?" I ask myself out loud, wracking my brain, trying to figure out what could have possibly happened at the mall. It had to have happened at the mall, because Christina seemed happy, excited even before our shopping trip began. I know I must have done something to cause this wrong. And it's just _that_, it's the fact that I upset someone that has me so uneasy. And especially since that someone is Christina.

I take a small box out of my pants pocket. Opening it, I run my fingers along the large princess cut diamond engagement ring I had bought today without Christina taking any notice. I saw it and fell in love with it; it was perfect. I even ordered the wedding rings to match this engagement ring. I take it out of the box and twirl it on my fingers, watching it sparkle. My conscience is unsettled.

**Christina's P.O.V.**

My alarm clock startles me, and I literally jump out of my dreams. Today we're flying back home and it looks like I'll be travelling with Michael's entourage. That makes me nervous, since I really don't want to see Michael right now. After what happened yesterday, I wish I didn't have to show my face. He is surrounded by all his people, and I am literally all alone. I've no friend to turn to when something goes wrong, no one to laugh with when I'm feeling lonely.

I muster up the energy to get out of bed, take a hot shower and pack the few random things I have laying around the hotel room. I put on an extra warm sweater on top of my pink long sleeved shirt. It is a lot colder in Indianapolis in the mornings than it is in Los Angeles. I turn around at the quiet tap on my door, and I open it revealing one of Michael's bodyguards I recognize from yesterday. "Your car is here to take you to the airport, miss," the tall slender Latino man said to me, walking in and taking my bags without asking, which kind of takes me by surprise, because I am not used to that kind of treatment, however small. But considering my situation I suppose I should get used to it.

My ride to the airport in the brad new black Lincoln Navigator is a short one, but I am surprised that I am riding alone. I half expected for someone to be in the car with me, I don't know, Michael, his hair stylist, a bodyguard, anybody. It's bad enough that my nerves are on end, but somehow this solitude is just making things worse.

The driver pulls past the airport gate and right onto the field after having shown some sort of permission. I straighten up to look out of the tinted windows and onto the airport field. This is a sight seen by few. My eyes are wide with surprise. I don't know why, but I had expected to fly in business class like I had done coming out here. But as we pull up to a private jet I murmur, _'Wow,' _under my breath. The driver parks and gets out of the Navigator to open my back car door open. "I'll take care of your luggage, miss," he says offering his hand to help me out of the SUV.

"Thank you," I whisper, never taking my eyes off of the jet. I take a deep breath. I really don't want to be on this plane, but I force myself forward anyway. It's now or never, and I'm getting more nervous with every step I take up the stairs. As I reach the cabin door, I can hear overwhelming laughter from inside. The jet is beautiful inside. Big, comfortable leather seats towards the front and sofas in the middle. It is exactly how I pictured the King of Pop travelling. And towards the back are all of Michael's people gathered around tables, where everyone was playing a game of some sort and laughing, including Michael.

The very first seat I can find in the front of the plane is vacant, it has no personal stuff on it like others, and so I quickly sit down, hoping no one notices my entrance. Everyone would probably wonder who I am if they noticed me, anyway, and if I were to be asked that question, I have no idea what I would answer. Few of these people are ever around at the house, and the few that are, would hardly take any notice to one of the maids like me.

"Please be seated for take-off in five minutes," the captain says over the crackling overhead speaker. I lean my head next to the window beside me and stare at the runway not far in the distance. The laughter in the back dies down, and everyone moves to take their seats, still talking amongst themselves. I feel even more of an outsider now, not that I am not sociable, I am, it's just I am not a part of this group who has travelled the world together for who knows how long. I hear the people sitting down in their seats and buckling their seatbelts around me as the plane starts to make its way on the runway. I take a piece of gum from my purse and chew on it fiercely as the plane starts to take off. I always do that so my ears pop and aren't stuffed upon landing. Just a crazy habit of mine.

"The take-off is my favorite part of flying," a soft voice says next to me. I turn and see Michael sitting next to me. What is he doing sitting next to me? I swear to God I do not understand this man. I look away out of the window and sigh heavily. Besides him being the boss, I just can't bring myself to speak my mind to him. I feel bad that he's being so nice to me now. His voice is so sweet, and his eyes are big. I felt the lift of the air underneath the jet pull us up into the sky. All I can do is smile; no words make their way out of my mouth.

For most of the four hour flight we sit in an uncomfortable silence while the rest of Michael's people roam about happily in the back of the plane at the tables. It is until we are about to land that Michael breaks the silence. "You know something? I really don't like to land," he says, grabbing ahold of my left hand and holding it tightly, his whole body going stiff in his seat, his eyes tightly closed and he looks to me like he's holding his breath. The sight of a forty-four year old man this scared makes me giggle. "Don't laugh," he demands.

"I'm sorry," I manage to choke out, followed by a full-fledged chuckle. I'm really not sorry. The way he stiffens at the landing is hilarious.

Michael starts to laugh too, and after the jet finally touches down, he softens his grip on my hand, but he doesn't let go. Following his lead, I fight the urge to let go of his hand and follow him off of the jet, hand in hand, uncomfortably, as we get into a waiting car and head back to Neverland.


	10. Chapter 10

**Christina's P.O.V.**

The ride to Neverland is short, being as the private jet we travelled on landed at the nearby Santa Maria airport. As we got out of the car in the carport of Neverland Ranch, Michael touched my arm softly and smiled warmly. "I had a lot of fun spending some time with you, Christina. Really."

"Oh, yeah, um me too," I say. The first thing he's said to me since landing. To me it seems like he's trying to tell me something. But what? What is he up to?

He beams his signature charismatic smile at me before turning around and making his way up to the main house. As he approaches the front door, his children Prince and Paris having anticipated his arrival and run outside of the house to greet him. He bends down and picks up the two kids joyfully to kiss them. Putting them down, he turns around. My heart skips. _'Oh my God he saw me watching him,'_ I think to myself and look away quickly. How completely embarrassing.

Looking at my wrist watch to my surprise I realize it is only 9 in the morning. There is a 3 hour time difference between California and Indiana, California being behind 3 hours. So what am I supposed to do now? This is about the time I'm supposed to be here for work, and it is Thursday. I might as well start working my shift, since Michael hasn't told me to do any different. I make my way towards the shed and collect my things and start my usual routine of dusting my two rooms, with the endless amounts of knickknacks and furniture they contain.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here, Christina?" Luisa yells angrily from the hallway. Startled, I spin around and see Luisa, her face bright red, charging towards me with her hands on her hips; of course. I'm used to her harsh looks and ugly grimaces, but never before has she welcomed me so, well, unwelcomely.

"What?" I murmur, absolutely confused.

"You just disappear for a few days and decide to come on back to work as if nothing happened?" My eyes peel open wide with the realization of what is happening. Oh my God. Michael must not have told Luisa where I would be going. And truthfully, I had never even thought of what I would say to her when I came back. I guess I just assumed Michael had taken care of everything. The wheels in my head start turning a thousand times a minute yet physically, I stand speechless.

"Get out of here!" she hisses pointing downstairs towards the exit. "I don't think I have to tell you your services are no longer needed."

Hearing all of the commotion in the upstairs hallway, Michael comes out of his study. "What's going on up there?" he calls out as he climbs the stairs and towards us. I turn and look at him; my jaw has literally dropped in disbelief.

"It looks like I've just been fired," I say to him as calmly as I can, although my nerves have been riled up. I never get used to someone yelling at me. It makes my whole body vibrate with emotion. I never have gotten into so much trouble in my entire life.

"What? Why?" Michael asks, looking back and forth between the two of us, confused.

"She didn't show up to work all week," Luisa fired back without hesitation. "Now she's here as if nothing happened." She flings her hand in my direction as if she were referring to some unimportant 'thing' instead of me.

The confused crinkle in Michael's nose softened and Michael began to laugh. "Oh, that," he said between giggles, covering his mouth, embarrassed.

"Yes, that," I say, rolling my eyes at him. Here I am being reprimanded, and might I add it's all his fault, and all he can do is laugh.

He stops laughing, trying ineffectively to regain his composure before responding to Luisa's accusations. "Luisa, I knew about Christina's absence," he says now serious. "She's staying," he adds.

"Of course, Mr. Jackson," Luisa replies under her breath. Michael nods in approval and makes his way back down the stairs and enters his study. I think I can make out a tiny smirk on his face.

I look back at Luisa only to find her shaking a finger in my face. "Let this serve as a warning to you. I will have your head on a platter. You will be gone if it's the last thing I do."

**Michael's P.O.V.**

I grin as I re-enter my study. So Christina was right. Luisa really does have it out for her. I have only rarely ever seen Luisa that angry. She's just overprotective of me, which I appreciate, I really do.

I pick up the telephone from the desk in front of me and press the hold button. I left one of my assistants, Mindy, on hold when I rushed out after hearing the ruckus upstairs. "I'm back. Now remind me what we were talking about?"

"You were telling me about the theme and decorations you wanted for the party, Mr. Jackson," Mindy recalled matter of factly.

Oh yes, how could I forget? All my plans have been leading up to this party; the engagement party. Christina has no idea about what I have in mind, and I have no intention of telling her, either. I want to surprise everyone. I get such a kick out of surprising people and boy will everyone be surprised; this is the party where I will ask Christina to marry me. This is just the way I want to present 'us' to our families. First of all if I had to tell mother and my brothers about my marriage alone, face to face, I'd probably just get grilled and harassed. I can hear it now, _'She just wants your money,' _and _'You can do better,' _and _'she's trying to get a career out of you,' _are a few things that come to mind. I know my family only wants the best for me, I know they mean well, but I'm tired of having to give explanations to them. And now, more than ever, they're not getting one. They need to think that this is the real thing. So the less information they have is best, and whatever I need to do to avoid them, I will do.

Second of all, I want everything to be _big._ Big engagement, big wedding, big honeymoon, big everything. I want as much attention on this marriage as humanly possible. That is, if I want this plan of mine to work. And it is, in fact, all part of the plan.

**Michael's P.O.V.**

It has taken some time and a lot of hard work to get everything just right, but everything that takes hard work can only turn out well. Today is the big day. The whole lawn is covered in Fourth of July decorations. In the red white and blue tents on the far side of the lawn are various buffets of all American food and a huge cupcake display in the shape and colors of an American flag. There are streamers strung all across the lawn, along with confetti, American flags, life sized cutouts of Uncle Sam and red white balloon decorations decorating the whole place. This is a perfect cover for my perfect surprise.

Everyone who is supposed to be here is here as well. Disguised as an invitation to a fourth of July party, my whole family is here; even mother, who was a hard one to convince to come, since her religion doesn't permit her to celebrate holidays. I had to beg her, and after explaining to her that it was extremely important to me that she be here, she finally gave up and came. I also invited one of my closest friends, Elizabeth Taylor to the event. There is no way I could get engaged and not have her here. She wouldn't let me off the hook if I hadn't told her about it. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I told all of my staff to get dressed up and bring their families to the party to celebrate the Fourth of July together, and I even hired a catering company, waiters and a clean-up crew, so the staff would feel like actual guests to the party that they are guests at, and they enjoy the party thoroughly.

Christina's parents and siblings are here, each of them with their respective spouses. They are gathered in their own separate group next to one of the red white and blue balloon decorations, and to be honest, their mere presence here makes me nervous. Christina is standing with them talking and laughing, her family looking upon her with pride. I admire how absolutely stunning she is in her white asymmetrical hemmed dress, with its halter top and sparkles on its hem, her long blonde hair is in elegant curls down her back. Her family notices me looking in their direction and smile, turning Christina around, whose back was towards me and she smiles warmly. Those darn butterflies make their way back into my stomach.

I suppose I should take this opportunity to go over there meet the people important in Christina's life. Embarrassed, I feel my brain and heart trying to make my body stay where it is, however I force my body with all my strength over there. They smile politely as I come up to them. They're not overly excited, which is refreshing, because many of the families of my employees got exaggeratingly excited. One girl, a teenage daughter of one of my veterinarians looked like she was hyperventilating.

"Hello," I say to the circle of eight people who I can only assume are her parents, siblings and in laws.

"Hello, Mr. Jackson," the older man salutes, holding out his hand to shake mine. "It's nice to finally meet you."

I take his hand. "Nice to meet you, too. You are Christina's father?" I ask, pointing between the two of them.

"Yes, I am," he answers proudly, smiling broadly.

In turn, I shake everyone's hand politely and welcome them to Neverland. "Make yourselves at home. Enjoy yourselves. I hope you have a good time." Everyone thanks me and nods their head in satisfaction. I like these people. They seem like nice, decent, genuine and educated people. No wonder Christina is that way as well; she comes from a good respectable family. "Christina, come with me for a second, please." I put my arm around Christina to what looked like the surprise of her family. I don't blame them, I'd be surprised too. But what they don't know is the most surprising thing is yet to come.

"Your family seems great. They seem really proud of you," I say, my arm still around Christina as we walk slowly across the lawn.

"Oh, thanks. I don't think 'proud' is the word I'd use," she laughs.

"It looked like it to me," I reassure. "Anyway, I want you to stick with me today."

"My pleasure, Michael," she blushed. I smile.

It is late afternoon, and the guests make their way into the large white party tent and everyone serves themselves from the buffet dinner. There's all American food for the occasion. The greasier it is, the more American it is. There is fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green salads, hot dogs, little bite sized hamburgers, French fries, hot wings, barbecue ribs, potato salad, green bean casserole, and for dessert, different types of pies; cherry, peach and strawberry. I have hired a DJ, who is softly playing music which is barely masking the mumble of the crowd, who are cheerfully talking while dining.

"It looks like everyone is having a great time," she states smiling, trying to make conversation with me. She looks as nervous as I feel. I'm glad it's not just me.

"Yeah it does. I'm glad," I reply, for lack of anything better to say. She's really got me on edge today, her and the fact that pretty soon I will be announcing our engagement. I sigh nervously.

Evening is upon us quickly, and as it does, the music suddenly stops, and we hear a loud noise above us. "Oh! Fireworks!" she says pointing into night sky, excitedly.

"Let's go see them," I say, taking her by the hand and out of the covered party tent and on the lawn. Everyone is gazing at the dark sky at the beautiful fire work show. There were large red white and blue peony fireworks, some of only one color, and some with all three, others that had spirals and others in the shape of stars. Fireworks always give me a warm feeling inside, which a celebration surely always should, and here we are, celebrating our nations birthday and unbeknownst to the rest of the party, an engagement. The day my life starts to turn around.

"I'll be right back," I tell Christina. I head towards the DJ for his cordless microphone, and I return to Christina's side. I have butterflies in my stomach, I feel nauseated and sick, but I tell myself this has to be done. I just wish it was someone else doing it.

"I have an announcement to make everybody," I say into the microphone, my voice cracking nervously. People turn in confusion, and when the commotion settles everyone is circled around me waiting for me to continue. Christina was next to me, and confused, she backed up disappearing unnoticed by the crowd into the circle of people.

"Um, this is hard for me to say," I announce looking to the ground shyly. The whole area was dead quiet, everyone hanging on my every word. "I just wanted to say, I wanted to ask," I hesitate. Everyone looks at each other and at me; ask if to ask, 'What's going on?'

"Actually, I wanted you all here to be witnesses, um, Christina, I wanted to ask you something," I say, gaining confidence. I'm here, I might as well finish what I've started, although I feel like I want to run for the hills.

Christina gets a look of realization on her face which makes me smile. She turns bright red and tries unsuccessfully to hide it behind one of her delicate hands as I walk up to her, reaching into my pocket for the ring I had picked out back in Indiana. As I take her left hand into mine gently, I slowly get down on left knee and say clearly into the microphone while looking as deep into her blue eyes as possible. Gasps can already be heard amongst the crowd. "Christina, I love you. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: I want to thank everyone who has been following my story, and apologize at the same time for taking so darn long. :) Don't think that I have forgotten this story. No way. I just have had some other things in my life to sort out, but now I'm back and going to keep working on this story. Enjoy!**

**Christina's P.O.V.**

Every girl dreams of her wedding, of the man she will spend the rest of her life with, and the special way in which she will be proposed to. I have to admit that like a lot of women, I have thought about it, ever since I was a little girl. But never had I thought it would be with Michael Jackson, at Neverland and in front of so many people. And in front of my parents, for crying out loud. If Michael wanted a wow factor, he certainly got it right now. No one expected this, not even me. There are gasps and commotion among the guests; everyone is in disbelief. Michael's sheer intelligence amazes me; he never misses a thing. He wanted this to be as real as possible, and what better way for it to be real than to actually surprise me with the engagement?

A genuine reaction it is, my face turns bright red as I realize that everyone is staring at me. I can only imagine what is going through their heads. _Who is this girl? _I try to absorb exactly what is happening. This all happened so fast and my mind is having a hard time keeping up with what is going on. And I am afraid of making a mistake, in front of all these people. _He should have told me._

Squeezing Michael's hand in mine in a deliberate knowing gesture, I put my hand to my mouth and nodding I say yes. His eyes light up and he beams a blinding smile at me sliding a large square diamond on my left ring finger. I stare at it in awe, but before I can get a good look at it, Michael jumps up and hugs me tightly. If I didn't know better, from looking at him I would say he was truly happy and excited. I put my arms around him as well, as I start to hear clapping and cheering. The crowd around us starts to close in on us. I look to my left, and see his family in shock. They don't have on a happy face, it seems to me it's more like they've just received bad news. I look quickly to my right, and my family looks like their in shock, but they look frozen; their jaws are still on the floor. Michael turns his face towards my ear and I feel the hot puffs of air when he says loudly over the commotion, "Let's get out of here, fast!"

He grabs my left hand securely and pulls me with force, and we start running towards the main house. He's holding my hand so tightly that the heavy diamond, having fallen to one side, is cutting into my middle finger. Aside from the pain, I can't help but giggle at the fact we are just running away from these people right after giving them the shock of a lifetime. It doesn't seem fair to them, however it does seem like something Michael would do. Luisa looks at us run by in horror. I'm almost out of breath when we reach the back entrance of the main house. Michael bursts out laughing.

"I can't believe we ran off like that," I say breathless, catching on to Michael's contagious laughter.

He puts his hand to his chest, breathing in heavily a few times catching his breath. "Come on, let's go up to my room. No one can get in there." We dash down the wood covered hallway, up the flight of stairs and into the familiar bedroom.

"That was so exciting," he says twirling and falling onto his bed like a boy in a fairy tale.

"_That,_ Michael, was frightening," I say correcting him, pointing in the direction of the incident while closing the bedroom door behind me locking it. I can still hear commotion, and the voices seemed to get louder with each minute that passes.

He laughs. "Why do you say that?"

"You did that out of nowhere," I reply immediately. "You should have at least warned me! I swear I'm still shaking," I affirm, examining finally the painful cut on my middle finger from the heavy ring.

Michael leaned back on his elbows, making himself comfortable on his bed. "I should have warned you? And had you nervous the whole time at the party? That would have been an obvious sign to anyone who is watching closely enough that something was up. I'm sure more that one person would have caught that. Even the smallest detail has to be perfect." He paused, looking up to his high ceiling for a moment. He looks so calm reclining back on his bed, his bright eyes focused on something unknown to me, his smooth ivory skin hugging his pronounced jawbone. _He is so handsome. _

"No," he continues in a soft voice, still looking at the ceiling."Everything was ideal. Instead of being nervous, you were happy, joyful." He paused looking straight at me. "Beautiful."

_What? _My heart flutters. Did he really just notice me as something other than a business partner? Because surely he wouldn't just say that to anyone...

Just then there was a hard knock at the door. "Michael, open up," a woman's voice sternly called out from the other side of the door.

We both gasp. "Who's that," I whisper.

"That would be La Toya," he said rolling his eyes. "My family probably sent her to find out what's going on, but don't worry, they're not getting in here tonight."

_So does that mean I'm staying tonight? _He stands up calmly, as if it didn't matter in the least to him that his older sister was viciously knocking at the door. "So you're just going to leave her out there?" I ask, confused, pointing to the door.

"Shhh," he put his index finger to his lips. He makes his way to the wide hardwood stairwell that is in his two story bedroom. "Let's go up here, so we can talk in peace."

I had been in this room several times before, since it was my job to dust and clean things in here. This room was one of the most beautiful rooms I had ever been in, with a large wooden four-poster canopy bed in the middle of the room, large African statues and statues of Greek gods and goddesses well placed around the room, and fine paintings hang on every wall. The one hundred eighty degree view of Neverland is breathtaking in itself. In daytime the room is filled with light and warmth, at nighttime it is illuminated by a large marble fireplace. But on the far side of the room are those mysterious stairs that lead up to a now enclosed loft on the second story of the room. I had always wondered what is up there, and what Michael felt he had to hide behind a heavy wooden door guarded by an electronic keypad and several deadbolts.

I follow him up the stairs slowly, as I hear the knocking at the bedroom door more and more persistent. He punches in his access code and with five short beeps he opens up the door. I walk in, not knowing what to expect.

Like a gentleman Michael opens the door and stands aside to let me go in first. I am greeted with a second set of wooden stairs that leads up to a circular room. It's another perfectly normal room, with a circular bed in the center, two nightstands on opposite sides of it and a high tech telescope at the farthest point of the room from the entrance. Its extremely large windows completely cover what should be the walls. This gives us a perfect three hundred sixty degree view of Neverland's grounds.

Moving closer to one of the large windows I notice not far in the distance I can see the illuminated red white and blue tents where guests are roaming about in the darkness at what was the Fourth of July party. Michael flipped on the lights in the room. All of a sudden everyone at the party on the lawn seemed to be looking in our direction. A few people are even coming this way.

I let out a puff of air just then realizing that I had been holding my breath. _Oh my God. _I can feel the color drain from my face. "Everybody can see us, can't they?" I say frightened at the sudden realization.

"What? No, silly, the windows are completely darkened. We can see out, but no one can see in."

I let out a big sigh of relief. I walk around the circumference of the round room, making a full circle. "So this is all this secret room is? Just... a room?" I ask. What can be so secret and amazing about another room? The man has dozens of them.

Michael let out a laugh then sits on the bed. "Yeah, it's just a room. I like it here because I feel like I can be a part of whatever is happening at Neverland. I can see everything that goes on. Sometimes I feel like I'm down there with them. It's just not possible to do that all the time." Poor man. What lengths he has to go through just to feel a little normal. "What were you expecting to be in here, anyway? Aliens?" he joked, punching me in the arm as I walked by.

I grab my arm. "No," I chuckle. "I don't know what I was expecting. Something more than just a room, I guess," I say sitting on the opposite side of the bed gazing out of the huge windows towards the now dispersing crowd. Michael rolls around on the bed and pops up suddenly by my side, frightening me. "You scared me," I exclaim.

"I know!" he laughs playfully. Looking at his irresistible smile, knowing he has scared me to death, he seems to radiate happiness. I feel butterflies having him so close to me. _God, what's happening to me?_

"The easy part is over," Michael announces.

"Excuse me?"

"The easy part, you know, of the plan. Now we move into a different, more difficult phase, Christina."

Ah, yes. Tonight my life has forever changed. God only knows what will happen next. I nod my head in agreement.

"I can bet that by tomorrow this engagement will be big news. And please, I beg you, try not to listen to most of what they will say."

"What can they possibly say," I interrupt.

"Oh, Christina, they'll invent things so absurd, and so far from the truth just to hurt us, and believe me they will, they can, and they have. But life will be easier if you take my advice and don't even listen to them in the first place."

"Okay, got it."

"Alright, second, they will be investigating you to no end. They will want to know who you are and where you come from. Tomorrow, you will talk to your parents."

"Oh, my parents! Michael, what in the world am I going to tell them?" I shiver at the thought.

"Tomorrow first thing, you'll need to call them. One thing's for certain, have them not say anything to the press. They'll be saying enough without your parents commenting on any details about you. Believe me."

"How about I talk to them now? They should still be around and still shocked out of their minds. I can get them to agree not to say anything without them questioning me too much," I say trying to avoid my parents. They will probably see right through me anyway.

"No!" Michael says a little too quickly, patting his hand on my leg. That sends electricity throughout my whole body. "Not... now. You're... supposed to be with me tonight," he continues turning red and looking down embarrassed. "You know..." he urges.

Oh, right. It wouldn't be very believable for us to get engaged and to go on each others separate ways a half hour later now would it? I smile warmly. He's adorable when embarrased. "Okay, so I'm staying tonight. Got it," I say winking at him knowingly and we both start to laugh.

"Third, I have hired security to protect you. You remember from the contract, you will be living at your apartment until the wedding. But you are going to be followed, and you need someone to protect you. Oh, and don't answer any questions. No matter how much they provoke you, you are to say nothing."

"Got it," I repeat.

"And last of all you will be coming here everyday just like you did when you were working for me. Except, obviously you will not be working. I'll just require you to accompany me around the grounds and also on the trips I will be making in these three months," he states in a serious tone.

All of this is sounding pretting exciting, really, mostly because of the traveling. I have never really gone anywhere. As a matter of fact, Neverland, which is near Santa Maria is the farthest I've ever been away from home, which is only a three hour drive from my native Los Angeles. Travelling to different places, accompanied by none other than the King of Pop himself, sounds very appealing. I mean, how hard can it be?

* * *

**Michael's P.O.V.**

"Well it's getting pretty late, I suppose I should go to sleep, but I'm going to take a quick shower first, if that's okay with you," Christina says standing up and in front of me.

"Of course," I chirp, standing up too.

"Do you have a towel and some clothes you can let me borrow? I didn't bring anything to wear, which is another reason you should have told me," she challenges, winking at me.

"Yeah I do," I laugh, running down the stairs and out of the heavy guarded door of the circular room, directly towards the large walk-in closet in the main bedroom. I dig out a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, a white t-shirt and a fresh towel. As I turn around she is already approaching and I hand the clothes to her. "I hope they fit," I say.

"Thanks," she says receiving the clothes and goes into the bathroom.

"Um, I'll take the bed upstairs," I yell through to her through the bathroom door.

"Okay," she replies.

The water from the shower starts to run, and I make my way up the stairs and into the extremely comfortable bed and attempt to sleep. My eyes remain wide open though, staring at the vast night time sky around me. For the first time in a long time, I leave the "secret room's" door open while in here. For some reason, I don't want to completely shut Christina out, no matter how much my head tells me to. I want to be understanding of her and what I know she will be going through now. Who will she talk to? Who better than myself will understand what she will be dealing with? I suppose I want to send a message by leaving my door open, that she is welcome to come to me with anything, without actually saying it. I'm still afraid of opening up completely, although the door is the first step I'm taking.

I roll over and look at the clock on the nightstand. Four thirty in the morning. Have I really been awake that long? Directing my gaze towards the stairwell, I can see a faint light coming from the bedroom below. Can't Christina sleep either?

I walk slowly down the stairs, careful that the wood doesn't creak with every step. I see Christina fast asleep illuminated by a fire in the fireplace that has warmed the whole room as well as provided the light that I had observed from the other room. She has kicked off the covers, which were obviously too warm for her with the fireplace going, exposing her sleeping soundly on her stomach wearing the flannel pj's and white shirt I had lent her. I can't help but admire her lovely young body but I direct my eyes to her face, suddenly embarrassed that I had been staring at her so.

God, _what is happening to me_? What am I feeling? I haven't felt this way in a long time; if only she liked me the way I like her. Things could be so different.

No, Michael. I shake my head. This is a business deal. I repeat to myself _this is a business deal _as I shuffle back up the stairs and back into my bed from which I never should have moved. Turning on my side I stare out of the windows and into the never ending vastness of space and finally fall asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Christina's P.O.V.**

"So, how'd it go?" Michael insists.

"Better than I thought it would," I respond.

I had woken up early, unable to sleep comfortably. I don't know why, but I'm never really able to rest in a bed that's not my own. I was in the bathroom in Michael's bedroom suite smoothing my blonde hair back into a ponytail the best I could without being able to find a brush anywhere in sight, when Michael came in insisting I call my parents. After many failed attempts at delaying the inevitable, I finally mustered up the courage to call them.

"So what did they say?"

"Well, they agreed not to say anything. But, they want to meet you. Formally."

Michael sighs. "I figured as much. I owe them no less. Have them come to dinner tonight."

I look at my reflection in the floor length mirror by the door. "I really have to get some clothes," I say.

Michael laughs as he opens the bedroom door and steps aside like a gentleman and waits for me to exit the bedroom first. "I'll take care of that."

I look at him confused. "So what now?"

He takes my hand in his and smiles warmly. "Breakfast."

* * *

It had never crossed my mind, not even for a second, that when I started working here that I would be a dinner guest at this stunning formal dining table. I know that this table is hardly used, as the family usually eats together at the more casual and homely table in the kitchen. This table is reserved for special occasions, although I haven't ever seen it in use.

My stomach is in knots as I approach the dining hall with Michael hand in hand. Judging by the way he's squeezing it I'd bet a fortune he is as nervous as I am. Joe and Katherine Jackson, are seated at the heads of the extra long polished table opposite each other. Weird that Michael's parents aren't sitting next to each other. It's as if they want to be as far away from each other as possible. Filling the ten seats in between were Prince, Paris, my parents, Janet, Randy, Jermaine.

Intimidating much?

We enter the room greeted with questioning stares. It seems like this news is not particularly plesant to them, as if Michael's plans to marry me are somehow negotiable, with the exception of my parents, of course, who although obviously surprised and serious, only want to see me happy. Maybe now I won't be considered as such a failure to my parents.

"Hello," Michael greets everyone cordially going down the row of chairs, stopping to give a kiss to his mother and siblings.

He approached my parents after noticeably skipping over his father, Joe. "Nice to meet you, sir," he says, extending a hand to each of my parents.

"We've already met. Yesterday at the party," my mother announces.

"Oh, right. But now we can introduce ourselves as what we really are, and what we soon will be," Michael says confidently while he pulls a chair out for me to sit, which by the look on my parents' face impressed them. And impressing them is not an easy thing to accomplish.

"Now that you've gotten to the point Michael, let's just get this over with," Joe interrupts. "What's all this about you getting married to this girl? What are you thinking boy?"

Katherine glares at her estranged husband. "Joseph!" she scolds softly, then turns to my shocked parents. I don't think they were expecting an outburst like that. Me either; I can feel my legs trembling underneath my pencil black skirt and I put my hands on them firmly to tame them. "I think we're all just a little surprised at the sudden announcement, Michael," Katherine continues, directing her attention towards my parents, then to Michael. "You never mentioned anything to me. That is so unlike you, son."

I look accross the table at Jermaine, Rand and Janet sit silent and serious. "I know mother, it just happened so fast, we were all caught up in the moment, and I found the perfect opportunity to propose, and make it special, so I did. That's how it happened."

"But you already had the ring with you, Michael," Janet adds in a suspicious tone.

"Well yeah, Janet, I'm saying that I knew I wanted to ask Christina to marry me, but I just didn't know when or how. So I saw the opportunity and just did it." Michael responds, clutching my hand from my lap and holding it to his heart. I blush.

Joseph gets out of his seat and forcefully grabs my hand out of Michael's grasp. "Let me see that ring, girl," he says twisting my wrist about examining the heavy ring. I bend my fingers a bit because I am almost sure he's going to try and take it off of my finger. "You know you're signing a prenup, right?" he says looking me straight in the eye, dropping my hand.

"Sit down, Joseph," Katherine scolds, annoyed.

"That rock is huge, boy. I hope you know what you're doing. Do your lawyers know about this?"

"Of course I know what I'm doing, Joseph, and yes, my lawyers know about it," he defends, holding my hand in his once more.

"Wait a minute here," my mother says holding her hands up in dissent. "We are supposed to be celebrating this engagement. If this is what our children want, we should be happy for them and support their decision, should we not?"

"We are _not_ happy when our son makes a rush decision like this." Joseph disagrees. "Don't you know that he is the biggest star in the world?"

"Well, we're not particularly thrilled that our daughter is marrying a man that is old enough to be her father. But I digress," my mother shoots back sternly.

Joseph sits back down in his chair in silence. Finally someone has said something to shut him up. I can't help but giggle.

My father then adds calmly, "I think we should start to get to know each other, interact you know. We don't really know the person our daughter is marrying. Everything seemed to have happened so quickly; we're still all so surprised."

Michael then starts a little small talk, common interests and whatnot, and the conversation soon becomes engaging and entertaining. Even Randy and Janet are contributing happily their thoughts and opinions. The only one who doesn't seem to be enjoying himself is Joseph, who is sulking quietly at the head of the table.

The dinner lasts well throughout the night, and it wasn't until midnight that everyone finally parts ways. Michael walks my parents and I down the pathway lit with garden lanterns to the Neverland carport, my parents walking in front of us and us behind, hand in hand. I'm supposed to be leaving with my parents like a good girl, since Michael's family will stay behind and probably discuss what they thought of me. Things are definitely going to be different for me now. I'm literally coming out of obscurity, and I can definitely feel a different vibe in the house. I chuckle when I think of Luisa. When I last saw her, Michael had just proposed and the look on her face was priceless. Boy, I can't wait to see her again.

As my parents get into either side of the car, Michael opens the back door of the SUV for me. Before I could get in, he pulls me by the arm and gets me in a big bear hug. "Now you see why I wanted to avoid my family?" he asks jokingly in my ear.

"Yes, I can understand. Other than your fathers outburst, your family was really charming. Just like you," I say as he pulls away and looks at me, smiling.

"Why, thank you," he beams.

"You're very welcome." He kisses me gently on the cheek and after I get into the backseat, he closes the door after me.

"Charming. Absolutely charming," my mother says as we drive of, watching Michael wave us off in the distance.

"My sentiments exactly," I concur, as Neverland's big iron gates close behind us.

* * *

**Michael's P.O.V.**

Dinner was impressive, to say the least. Christina and her family are very well read and knowledgable. I'm quite surprised she's working as a maid, to be honest. Not that there is anything wrong with that, because it's a very respectable way to earn a living, I just think she is capable of so much more. I can't help smiling like a fool when I think about her.

After knocking softly at my study door, Christina pops her head inside. "Hey Michael," she greets happily. With her new status as my fiance, she doesn't have to make appointments nor wait to be introduced. She seems to look happy about it.

"Hi Christina, come in!"

"You, uh, wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, I'm just waiting for Geragos to get here. You look beautiful today," I say admiring her white tank top and blue jean shorts. Her blonde hair was falling freely down her shoulders with her bangs pinned back with a bobby pin.

"Geragos?" she inquires, sitting down in one of the brown leather chairs in front of my desk. "Why would we be waiting for him?"

I sit deep in my chair, sighing. I really wish I didn't have to do what I have to do now. However much I like the girl, I have to stick to the plan. Better to be prepared than to lament about it later. It's something that I have learned the hard way.

Geragos makes his way silently into the study at that moment, and sits in the chair opposite Christina.

"What's going on?" Christina demands.

"Just give her the papers and get it over with, will you," I motion to Geragos as Christina looks at both of us in confusion. Geragos opens his leather briefcase, and hands her a manila envelope which she recieves reluctantly.

"What's this," she asks suspiciously.

"It's the prenuptual agreement," I say just a little too quickly.

"Oh. Right."

She opens the manila folder and begins reading silently. After about fifteen minutes of silence passes, when Christina abruptly closes the file and slams it onto my desk.

"I _cannot_ sign this, it's ridiculous," she says visibly agitated.

"What do you mean you can't sign it?" I demand. What is she talking about?

"It's just plain ridiculous!" she exclaims, looking between Geragos and I.

I wave Geragos out of the room. "Give us a minute," I tell him and he obediently leaves the study without a peep.

Christina is standing over the file folder and when I reach her I pull her close by her arms. "Tell me why you can't sign it." I say sternly.

She backs up. "Michael, are you kidding me?" she says picking up the folder and moving it with her wrist, annoyed. "One of the many things this says is that if we have any children, full custody will go to you, and I give up my parental rights."

I laugh. "Is that the problem, Christina?" She looks at me disdainfully and I roll my eyes. "Do you really think we're even going to have children?"

"Well, I suppose not..."

"That's just something I threw in there to cover all my bases."

"Exactly my point, Michael. Neither you nor I know what will happen in the future. What if we do have children? I wouldn't be willing to give them up. Not for anything. Not for money, not for you."

This girl can be a pain in the ass when she wants to be. There are a million women out there who would give me anything if I simply asked for it. Who does she think she is?

I back away towards my end of the desk and sit down. "I hate to break it to you, Christina, but this is just a contract. That is all," I say sharply.

She looks at me with eyes that could cut down steel. Without a word, she reaches over my desk and takes a pen, signs the contract, and storms angrily out of the study.


	13. Chapter 13

**Michael's P.O.V.**

It has been a tumultuous few weeks since Christina stormed out of my study. I have never seen her that mad, and to be honest I didn't think she had it in her. But however much I like to avoid conflict, the day will come when we will have to face each other.

Today is the day when the planning for the wedding starts. I am sitting behind my desk in my study with my wedding planners making some rough ideas for the wedding.

"So what are your thoughts on it, Mr. Jackson?" asks William Miller, a famous wedding planner to the stars. He's done the weddings of Mariah Carey to Tommy Mottola, Cindy Crawford to Randy Gerber and many other celebrities. But he's not alone in this venture. I've hired three of the best wedding planners in the world to combine their thoughts and ideas and turn it into the most extravagant wedding known to man.

"I was thinking for the ceremony to be held here at Neverland. I want it big, I want it extravagant and I want it amazing. Money is no object."

"Does it have to be in Neverland, sir?" asked one of the wedding planners, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and tapping his pen to his lip rhythmically. "Could we do it at an English castle? We can have you married as a king, you know, sort of playing off the title you have of 'King of Pop'"?

"We have to find something that's really _you._" the second wedding planner said thoughtfully. He pauses. "What about... Disneyland?"

"Disneyland?" the other two wp's say in unison.

"Disneyland?" I pause a whole minute. The wp's are hanging on my response. "I love it!"

"We could have the ceremony at Sleeping Beauty's castle in the middle of the park," one says, feeding off of my enthusiasm.

"What do you think of fan involvement, Mr. Jackson?"

Their ideas are spewing out of them at a rate of a million times a minute, it's incredible how their minds work. That's why their the best in their field. I really like where this is going.

* * *

**Christina's P.O.V.**

My stomach is in pain as I stand on the podium in a makeshift studio/bridal shop exclusively for me in Santa Maria. Although based in New York, Michael commissioned the one and only top designer Vera Wang to make my dress. I can't tell if my stomachache is due to nerves or this absolutely dreadful situation I'm in.

A few young and overly enthusiastic assistants are taking endless measurements for what seems like hours, and from every angle possble. Everytime I'd move even slightly, I'd get a _hold still_, then they'd take even more measurements. Have they no compassion? They made me wear my heels for goodness sake!

In the middle of all the tugging and pulling, my mind wanders to three hours ago. I was lounging on my cheap couch, downloading some new songs from the newly launched iTunes store, which in my opinion has got to be the best thing invented since sliced bread, when I heard another annoying beep from my phone.

_You have an appointment at 135 Westbrook Ave, Santa Maria in one hour._

Short and sweet. And very impersonal. It was from Michael's assistant Mindy, which I guess is also my assistant now, because she's the one who has sent me countless texts of where I am supposed to be and where. Like almost every other day my presence is wanted at Neverland, and although I'd rather not see Michael, I'm forced to suck it up and smile and be merry in the presence of others, but otherwise I avoid him at all costs. After what he said to me two weeks ago in his study, I don't think I could easily forgive him. But when we're together, even if it's against our will, even if the smiles are forced, deep down inside me, I feel something... _something_. I don't know what, but it's definitely something.

"Hi, Christina, I'm Vera. It's very nice to meet you," a petite asian woman says to me with her hand outstretched for me to shake. I guess measurements had finished while my mind had wandered, and I was left alone standing on the podium. I reach for Vera's hand and shake it, getting off of the pedestal.

"Oh, hi. A pleasure to meet you, too."

"Come have a seat," she offers, pointing to a small black round table in the far corner of the provisional studio. "First of all, let me congratulate you on your engagement and I am so honored that you chose me to design your dress," she starts as we sit down at the little table.

"Are you kidding me, thank you for coming out here especially for me!" I exclaim, even though I know I had nothing to do in choosing her as a designer, and I can't really take credit for her being here, so I should be the last person who she should be thanking. However I am absolutely amazed that she will be the one designing the MY wedding dress. And I _am _supposed to be acting, aren't I?

Vera laughs graciously, and opens a three-ring binder on the table and puts it in front of me. "So these are the ideas I've got, based on the instructions Michael sent me."

So he's even got what I will wear controlled. I sigh. I guess I couldn't really expect Vera Wang to design the dress I would _want_ to wear to my wedding since that would be too much to ask. It isn't really my wedding now is it. It feels as if I am in a movie, just acting the part of the bride, going through the motions for the sake of the people watching. Not what I expected when got married.

I look down reluctantly into the pages down in the professional black binder. Two pages are layed out side by side. The first dress is absolutely stunning and I gasp in amazement. A white tight fitting later top dress with red and white jewels down the torso in a brilliant blaze. "What are these," I ask, pointing to the torso area.

"_That,_" she stresses, "is the blaze arrangement that will be embroidered with rubies and diamonds. The other dress is all red silk, satin and lace strapless dress, with rubies and diamonds embroidered on it as well. Mr. Jackson stressed the importance of _red_ in the wedding and insisted I incorporate the color in the dress somehow. But it's up to you, Christina to choose the dress you like, or tell me what changes you would like to the cut and fit."

She is silent for a few moments to let me ponder the two dresses. "The rubies and diamonds on them look like they will be stunning on both dresses, but I can't help to be more fond of the white fabric instead of the red." It is a wedding after all, I want to be in a white dress.

"I understand. So how about the cut, the train?"

"This cut is nice, the train seems way too long to be honest."

"The actual length of the train was a must for Mr. Jackson," Vera explains.

"Everything is fine then. I like the white dress and the strapless cut."

"Perfect," Vera says excitedly. "I'll be off to New York then right away to get working on this. Please do expect there to be more fittings. I'll be in contact," she says shaking my hand professionally and leaves hastily.

"Perfect," I sigh and sink back low into the plastic chair.

* * *

**Christina's P.O.V.**

We get out of our limo in silence and I follow Michael up the steep steps of St. Jude's Children's Hospital in Memphis. I don't know why we're actually on this trip, as now more than ever no one tells me anything. When Michael's bodyguards open the entrance doors for us, I unexpectedly feel him grab my hand.

"I thought girlfriends don't hold your hand," I say spitefully.

I don't think he was expecting anything to come out of my mouth judging by the way he whipped his head around and furrowed his brow at me. But as quickly as he did that, his countenance softened and he smiled sweetly. "You're much more than a girlfriend, Christina."

_Unbelievable._ I smile back, a little too late, and he stares at me, just a little too long. Fortunately flashes of light interrupt our exchange, and as we enter the double doors of St Jude's entrance Michael twists around to wave to the cameras and quickly gathering crowds.

* * *

I get out of the limo just as soon as it parks in front of the main house at Neverland, running past it quickly towards the movie house. At this house I feel like an outsider, and the worst thing about being an outsider is that there is nowhere you can go, nowhere that is your safe haven, a refuge for you, nowhere for you to go to just vent and feel safe. You're constantly in someone else's turf and inevitably always alone.

After closing the door I find the theater seat that is front and center and sit down, pull my feet up to my chest and sulk. Here, no one gawks at me, I don't have to pretend I'm happy when I'm really not. Inside I feel like I'm screaming, trying to claw my way back out of an abyss, but instead of seeing the light again, I just seem to keep falling deeper into loneliness. I know now, that when I signed this wretched contract, I didn't have a clue what I was getting into.

"Christina!" I hear Michael's voice shout near the entrance of the theater. I don't turn around, I know we're alone and there's no having to pretend for anybody. I feel him sit down in the seat next to me.

"Christina, you can't just ignore me, you know," he says after taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He seems bothered.

I take a deep breath, his scent of cologne arriving to the delight of my nostrils just then. _God, why does he have to smell so good?_

"I can, and _I have_ as a matter of fact." I shoot back.

"No, actually you can't. We have a wedding that we're in the final stages of planning. We have places and functions to attend. We have to be on the same page, and might I mention you are under contract, so you _must_ deal with me."

"The contract, the contract, how can I forget the contract?" I say sarcastically. I'm on the brink of tears, I can feel it. "You won't let me forget it either, will you?"

It was his turn to sigh and sink into his seat. I could sit here and tell him exactly how I feel, but I am fed up. I know I have five long years left on my contract, but I do feel, in fact, fed up. I get up and head for the door in hopes of avoiding him further, but I feel a firm hand pull me around by the arm.

He searches deep into my eyes for awhile, still holding my arm. He looks confused. He looks concerned.

Seeing his expression, I break into tears. I feel everything is just a little too much for me; for him to have been so sweet to me at times and at others so mean, exhausts me to no end. We have nice conversations, he can be so gentle and takes my hand, even gives me sweet kisses, you can even say leads me on, then he has me sign a ridiculous contract and is constantly reminding me that all we have together is _indeed_ just a contract. He makes me feel so good at times, and at others so silly. I feel like I've literally been tossed around like a rag doll and it doesn't feel good. When is it an act, and when is he for real? I just don't know when to believe him, I just don't know...

I feel him take my other arm, gently this time and pull me close. His long arms wrap around me tightly. That makes me cry even harder; I needed a hug. Just not from him. _God, not from him._

I feel him pull back from me slightly, I put my head down, blinded by my very own tears. His big hand cups my chin and lifts it up again, with his other hand he wipes my tears and I can finally open my eyes. I'm surprised and saddened to see a single tear fall from his right eye, and as it falls he brings his face close and rests his forehead on mine. I close my eyes again. This feels like a man who cares. Why can't I just believe him?

Suddenly I feel his lips pressing against mine, soft and warm. I am caught off guard, but feeling his warm lips part and kiss each lip tenderly, the touch of his hand gently cupping my face, the warmth of his body so close to me I suddenly feel safe; I feel home. I open my mouth in turn to willingly receive his soft kisses; I can feel him react to me, biting my lower lip delicately. I am tormented by my contradicting feelings, but just for now, I let myself live in the moment, enjoying the bliss that is being in Michaels arms.


	14. Chapter 14

**Michael's P.O.V.**

Perfect. That is the only word I can think of to describe this day; the culmination of so much planning and hard work, and I must say, a deserved celebration. Sleeping Beauty's castle at the very heart of Disneyland in Anaheim, California is where the wedding ceremony was chosen to take place. There is no large space inside of the actual castle for large amounts of people to gather, since the inside floorplan only consists of narrow paths and winding stairwells, used as a walkthrough depicting the whole of the princess story. The actual ceremony then is behind the castle in the area between the carousel and the castle itself. There are thousands of fans gathered behind the roped off areas in front of the castle, and with the drawbridge drawn, it looks to them like the wedding is taking place on the inside.

What a fitting place to get married, what a genius idea those wedding planners of mine had. What a better place than this place that I have loved my entire life to get married in, and it's a perfect play on the King of Pop as they call me. Where else does a king of anything or anywhere get married but in a castle?

There are two big screens where the ceremony will be broadcast to the fans who were lucky enough to get tickets. Fans were given the chance to participate and be with me on a day which I know is just as special to them as it is to me, so all of my fans were invited to enter a raffle for the chance to be one of the two thousand people to attend.

The actual set up for the wedding, in my opinion is spectacular. There are over three hundred chairs for guests, like my family, which in and of itself is extensive, Christina's family, friends and collegues. The crowds start to cheer as the first guests, from the likes of Elizabeth Taylor, Liza Minelli, Mariah Carey and Beyonce Knowles are seen on the big screen arriving and taking their seats. I feel as nervous as I do before any concert or show, time seems like it just won't move fast enough. Each minute that passes seem like days that drag on into infinity. I know every minute has been carefully planned, but jeez, can't these people hurry up?

The side of the ceremony set up next to the carousel is like an elegant white wall, hung with white silk drapery with large bouquets of red roses adorning each graceful swoop of the silk. The walk up to the altar is a white carpet covered in red rose petals. The guests are under a canopy that lets in the light but shields them from the hot October sun. The wedding altar itself is a large lone oak tree decorated simply with red and white trinkets. It's representative of my love for nature, and reminds me of my Giving Tree at Neverland. At the back everything are the large TV cameras that are broadcasting to the fans in the front of the castle. This whole thing amazes me. I wanted big and I got bigger. The wedding couldn't have been more extravagant; it's everything that I asked for and more.

Here I am, anxiously waiting in my provisional dressing room for the last guests to take their seats. I can't help but pace back and forth in the dressing room nervously, while Karen Faye, my hair and make up artist follows me around the room trying to put the finishing touches on my hair, which I decided to wear shoulder length and smooth.

"Hold still, would you?"

"I can't, I can't" I say restlessly.

After she manages somehow to get a few shakes into my hair and a couple pats of makeup on my face she announces, "you're all set, Michael."

My wedding planner, William Miller pops his head in. "It's time, Mr. Jackson. Will you come with me, please?"

I nod, sighing while I straighten out my white tuxedo jacket and red vest in the large full length mirror. "Here goes nothing," I mutter.

I follow John outside of the dressing room door to my spot right behind the cameras. "When you hear the music start, that's your cue to make your way down the aisle to your place on the right side of the altar."

"Got it," I assure him.

John runs off to the far side and a piano starts playing, and my collegue and proud to say my good friend Stevie Wonder's smooth and soulful voice starts singing his 1976 song Joy Inside My Tears. I love this song, it's perfect for the occasion, lovely without being too cheesy. The original song is beautiful, but the way Stevie is accompanying his voice with just his piano is amazing. I never would have thought the two instruments would compliment each other so perfectly.

I start my procession down the aisle alone, I don't have a best man nor did I want one. I feel so nervous I could vomit, but I try so hard to hold myself together, holding my head high, walking slowly to the beat of Stevie's voice.

_I've always come to the conclusion that 'but' is the way_  
_Of asking for permission to lay something heavy on ones head_  
_So I have tried to not be the one who 'll fall into that line_  
_But what I feel inside I think you should know _

_And baby that's you - you - you_  
_Made life's history_  
_Cause you've brought some joy inside my tears_  
_And you have done what no one thought could be_  
_You've brought some joy inside my tears_

On the other side of the castle I can hear the roar of excitement of my fans, screaming my name rhythmically. _Michael, Michael! _I feel all eyes on me as I pass the rows of chairs that never seem to end, staring intently on the pristine white carpet in front of me, and before long I reach the front row to where my mother and father are seated. I catch the eyes of my mother who, teary-eyed, smiles at me, her happiness shining through her easily. I can't help but to smile back at her. Words cannot describe what it feels like to see her that way.

Before I know it I've reached the tree altar, and taking my place to the right of it, I look forward at the Reverend Jesse Jackson who will be marrying us. He smiles at me warmly. Who else to marry us? He's been supporting my family for many years now, and I couldn't think of anyone better than him.

As if on cue, behind me I hear gasps and the commotion of the guests' white wooden chairs. I look straight forward, being too nervous to look behind me, knowing since this is being filmed and I don't know if I'm going to show the footage later, or what I'm going to do with it really. Most likely the public will see it one day, in one shape or form, the media will describe in minute detail what happened, from whatever source they can possibly come up with anyway, and I really don't want to show too many emotions. Time and time again, I've seen wedding videos where, as the bride is coming down the aisle, the cameramen close up on the groom to get his reaction. I specifically instructed that this is not supposed to happen, but who am I kidding? Who isn't going to take notice of my reaction? However I feel this is something that is just way, way, way, too personal. But... this is what the plan calls for, so this is what shall be done.

Christina seems to be taking an eternity to get up the aisle. As I tap my foot nervously, my curiosity gets the better of me and I sneak a peak and turn around slightly to find all the guests standing up and looking behind them where I found Christina presenting herself to the ceremony.

She is breathtaking, her white strapless dress fit her beautifully, the red rubies sparkled on her torso, her long train following her. Her blonde hair was wrapped up in tight curls on her head, the long lace veil underneath it, diamond tiara on her head. She looks regal, elegant, and absolutely beautiful. I didn't realize I had been holding my breath, and I let it out in a big sigh. Her father, towering over her, accompanies his daughter down the aisle. He looks proud, but at the same time he looks sad. Stevie's voice accompany them down the aisle as well.

_I've always felt that tomorrow is for those who are too much afraid_  
_To go past yesterday and start living for today_  
_I feel that lasting moments are coming far and few between_  
_So I should tell you of the happiness that you bring_  
_Baby, baby it's you - you - you_  
_Made life's history_  
_Oh baby, you've brought some joy inside my tears_  
_Baby you have done what no one thought could be_  
_You brought some joy inside my tears_  
_You brought some joy inside my tears_  
_You brought some joy inside my tears_

Christina reached the end of the rows of chairs, and I went down to meet her. With a tear in his eye her father offered me her hand to take. "Take care of her."

"I will," I promise, taking her hand in mine, shifting my gaze down to Christina. She couldn't have looked more beautiful. "You are literally breathtaking, Christina."

She smiles and I can't help but smile back. To that smile that perplexed me for some strange reason since the first time I saw her, shaking her behind and her feather duster in the library some eight months ago, to which that memory made me smile big.

"Thank you," she replies sweetly. She looks nervous. God, if I'm nervous, I can just imagine what she feels like. I squeeze her hand knowingly and ceremoniously lead her up to the altar to where the Reverend is waiting for us patiently. When we get there, the music, almost if magically, stops. I can hear sniffling behind me.

* * *

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

At those words from the Reverend Jesse Jackson, the crowd starts to roar on the other side of the castle, and there is not any of a less energetic response from the guests inside the ceremony. I, as nervous as I am, feel like I want to run away from everybody and climb that tree altar than kiss this girl in front of everyone. I feel my face grow hot as I shyly lean forward, wiping the bashful smile off my face only long enough to plant a quick peck on Christina's lips then quickly drawing back, laughing, embarrassed.

I grab her had tightly and we glide back along the white carpet, dotted with red roses, receiving congratulations and applause amongst the guests. After we finally pass the cameras, Christina touches my arm slightly.

"Oh. My. God," she declares. "I can't believe what just happened back there. That was the most beautiful wedding I've ever been to! I can't believe I'm still standing."

I chuckle. "Honestly, you have to be the most beautiful bride that I've ever seen." She looks radiant in her gown, with rubies and diamonds splashed on her torso, her hair carefully arranged with a wedding tiara perched on her head. I match her in my crisp white suit, red vest, a red rose attached to my jacket and a red arm band. "If you can't believe what happened back there, wait till you see what's happening next!"

I hurry her towards the other side of where the ceremony took place and inside of the castle. "Where are we going?"Christina asks eagerly.

"To introduce you properly for the first time to the world." I give a sigh and almost instantly the drawbridge lowers to the outside in front of us, revealing us finally to the eager fans waiting behind ropes. Shrill screams of excited fans fill the area as Christina and I, newly wed, wave to the crowd.

"Let's go say hi," I insist.

"Oh my God, no!"

"Come on, they're really nice, trust me," I assure as I pull her in close to the fans.

* * *

**Christina's P.O.V.**

"Now _that_ was an experience." I say to my new husband in my trailer-_slash_-dressing room.

"Get used to it," he responded playfully, rolling his eyes.

"I don't know how you do it, to be honest. It really takes a lot out of you." I only experienced something similar only once in Indiana with Michael and I can only imagine what toll that takes on a person who goes through that every time they go out in public.

Michael sighs happily. "Come on, get changed, now we're going to have some _fun_."


	15. Chapter 15

**Christina's P.O.V.**

I could have never imagined something like this; a wedding at Disneyland. It is not normal by any means, but what it definitely is.. is beautiful. The Reverend Jesse Jackson who presided over the ceremony gave a beautiful sermon. His words I will not easily forget:

'_Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. A couple does not begin marriage with this perfect love. The couple grows in loving and grows by loving. Love is hard work. Sometimes love will mean you will have to suffer, if not the love is a disguised form of selfishness.'_

Immediately after Michael and I had finished greeting the extatic fans we changed in our dressing rooms meanwhile the fans were cleared out by a large hired security force so that for the rest of the morning and the rest of the day the theme park could be enjoyed by the entire wedding party.

Only Michael Jackson could pull something like this off.

We have the whole park to ourselves. People playing arcade games are given unlimited tokens, carnival games are free, even the concession stands and restaurants are all you can eat. It is beyond amazing.

"Let's go on that one!" I exclaim pointing up towards a large dome room.

"Space Mountain! That's my favorite!" he declares with a large goofy grin, which I stop to stare at, it's so cute. But Michael doesn't seem to notice and pulls me alone with him, racing along into the building and towards the empty roller coaster cars. He has this smile of pure joy on his face as if he were an eleven year old boy at Disneyland for the first time.

"This place is totally different with no people around. It's pretty cool. We could get on this thing a hundred times today if we wanted to," I point out.

"Yeah. But I kind of prefer it with people. To experience it like it's supposed to be experienced."

We sit in the very front of the roller coaster car and the ride workers come to check our saftey bars. "I love rollercoasters," he says excitedly.

"Disneyland doesn't have very many large roller coasters, Michael."

"No, but this is my favorite one, it's not the biggest one..." he started when we start zipping off into the darkness of Space Mountain.

When the ride is over and the ringing in my ears finally stops from his screaming, we head out into the park in search of another ride.

"You see why this place is so magical?" He turns to look at me, his puppy dog eyes almost pleading. "You do, don't you?"

So not to dissappoint him, I nod my head in agreement. "I do see this place as magical. I just don't think I had ever seen it though your eyes before."

He smiles broadly with satisfaction and tugs me along. "We'll be able to get on every ride!" he chirps happily, and I can't help but giggling like a schoolgirl myself, not having had so much fun in a very long time. And with all the stress from this contract and huge wedding, this is a welcome change. It's not time to think about contracts anyway. Not today.

Passing random wedding guests at restaurants and carnival games, Michael holds my hand tightly wherever we go, searching for the next perfect thing to do.

* * *

It is 8 PM and finally dark outside, I'm surprised that there is not going to be any formal dinner, probably because everyone had their fill at all the free concession stands and restaurants in the park to be hungry anyway.

"Getting everyone from around the park to one spot ot have a formal dinner, when this party is anything but formal is a task in and of itself," Michael explains. However the rides were scheduled to be closed now, and everyone was told to be on their way to the center of the park, where a lot of the guests had already started to gather around a large stage.

"What's this?" I ask. But before he can answer, a big _boom_ erupts from the speakers. A show was starting from the look of it.

"Hey everyone!" a woman's voice bellows. "Michael and Christina, I just want to say congratulations from the bottom of my heart. I hope you two will have a wonderful life together." The crowd of a little under two hundred people start roaring. "I'm sorry," she giggles, "I'm nervous."

It is none other than Beyonce, who kicked off the unforgettable and one and only wedding concert.

* * *

**Michael's P.O.V.**

The ride to Neverland from here is an unbearable five hours, so I booked the Disneyland Hotel's penthouse suite for the night, along with over a hundred rooms for my guests. I'm so nervous I could faint, as Christina, Matt the president of Disneyland resort and I ride the elevator in silence to the top floor.

As we get out of the elevator and reach the penthouse suite door, which is opened for us by Matt, I quietly thank him and shut the door behind me.

"Oh my God, today has to have been the best day of my life," Christina says enthusiastically.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," I say looking around the immense Mickey Mouse themed suite. "So what now?"

Christina, in front of a Mickey Mouse shaped vanity mirror in the master bedroom, pulls out bobby pins from her hair, letting fall blonde curls around her shoulders. "What do you mean, what now? It's almost four in the morning, and we've been up all day. Let's sleep!"

"O.K." I say a bit reluctantly. I know it's late, I should probably try and get some sleep while I can.

Christina runs up to me, her blonde curls bouncing as she runs, her make up still as perfect as it was this morning, wraps her long arms around me. "Thank you so much, I can't remember when I had so much fun." She smiles over sweetly and hops into the California king sized bed in the master bedroom with a smile still on her face.

I sigh. Well there goes any chance of me getting any sleep.

The second bedroom has a round bed shaped exactly like the one I have in my secret room in my bedroom back at Neverland which I sink into comfortably.

* * *

**Christina's P.O.V.**

In the limo, on our way back to Neverland, the next afternoon, Michael and I are alone, and I chuckle to myself.

"What's so funny?" Michael asks.

"I was just thinking about our wedding night."

"Oh, right." He laughs as well. "You... weren't expecting..."

"Expecting?"

"You know..." he continues uncomfortably.

"Oh! No! No, of course not, but now that I am thinking about it, that _is _what most people do on their wedding night."

"We're not most people," he retorts with a friendly nudge to my ribcage.

"No, we're not, are we," I say, rubbing my side.

After five long hours, we pull up to the gates of Neverland. "Home at last."

I look over at him and sigh. I guess this _will_ be my home for the next five years.

Getting out of the limo, I'm glad to finally be able to stand. You can stretch and lay down in that thing, but there's nothing like standing and walking around to work out the kinks of a long car ride.

_"Where should I put her things, Mr. Jackson?" _

_"Oh, put them in her room please, Danny."_

_"Sure thing."_

_Her_ room? What's going on now?

"Hey Christina, come with me, won't you?"

"Um, sure," I say uncertain of what's going to happen next. He leads me into his study and motions for me to have a seat. This can't be good, because every time I'm summoned in here, nothing good happens. Slowly, he takes a small package from his desk. "Another package for me?"

"Yes, last one," he says with a smile opening it up.

"Oh, the suspense," I say sarcastically.

"Be quiet," he snickers. "Now let me see, here are the keys to the house, I suppose you should have them, although I doubt you'll need them much. These here are the keys to your room."

"My room?" I interrupt.

"Yeah, your room," Michael says matter of factly. "I thought we should have separate rooms, so we can both have our privacy." I don't know how to respond. "Kings and queens always had different chambers. When they wanted each others company, they visited each other in their rooms. We can do the same thing."

I don't know if I'm upset or relieved. But what I definitely am is confused. "Anyway, these are the keys to your car. You should have one to go where you need to, but be warned, you'll need security people. Take my advice and always use a driver. This is your shared bank account to be used for your expenses here. And these are the numbers of the best hair and makeup people, nail artist, and stylist there are."

"But Michael, I've already got a car. I don't want to use your drivers either. Nor a bank account. I'm going to have enough money to pay for all these people myself, and God only knows why I'll even need all these people at all."

"Christina, it's all already stipulated in the..." he stops himself abruptly, and clears his throat. "The... agreement, we.. have."

His mention of the contract, rather than make me upset, makes me laugh. "Okay, fine," I say amused at his obvious discomfort, take his items into my posession.

"So what am I supposed to be doing around here? Stuck in my room all day?"

"No, of course not, make yourself at home. Absolutely."

"Okay, your majesty, then show me to my chambers."


	16. Chapter 16

**This is just a re upload of Chapter 16. I didn't like how it turned out so I edited it.**

* * *

**Michael's P.O.V.**

It seems to me that adjusting to her new life here at Neverland has been a bit painful for Christina. Most days she locks herself in her room only emerging to eat. Some nights from my second story room in my bedroom I've seen her slowly wander around the property. I feel pretty bad that she hasn't been able to feel more comfortable around here, and although I know I should make more of an effort to include her, I can never seem to muster up the courage to do anything about it.

As I am about to open my bedroom door to attend an urgent meeting with my lawyer Mark Geragos, who should be arriving any minute, I hear Christina's door, which is adjacent to mine, open loudly. Waiting, I hear her footsteps going down the hallway and then down the staircase quickly. I open my door and shut it behind me carefully and from the balcony see that she headed to the kitchen. I guess this is my chance, a good a time as ever, I suppose.

Hurrying down the stairs, I head towards the kitchen trying to act as casual and disinterested as I possibly can. Christina is sitting with her back towards me, still in her pink and brown plaid pijama bottoms and thin pink long sleeved shirt, with her face in a bowl of cereal. Grabbing an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen counter, I take a deep breath and grab a chair next to her and sit down in it backwards.

"Hey," I say, announcing my presence, tossing the apple slightly into the air.

She looks up quickly. "Oh! Hi," she answers looking a bit rattled.

"Looks like you are hungry the way you're attacking that cereal."

"Oh yeah, I am, I don't think I have eaten all day."

A long awkward silence follows. _Think of something Jackson! _We are then interrupted by Luisa, may God bless her soul. "Mr Jackson, Mark Geragos has arrived and is in your study waiting for you, sir," she slurs in her spanish accent.

"Thank you, Luisa," I answer, probably a little too eagerly. "Tell him I'll be right with him please."

"Geragos, huh?" Christina asks, her face still in her cereal. "That _can't_ be good news."

I grin. "Nah, nothing that important. But hey," I say timidly, "would you like to play some pinball in the game room after my meeting or something? I mean if you want to, you don't have to if you don't want to."

Once more her face came out of that bowl of cereal and she smiled. "Yeah. Actually that sounds pretty good."

"Okay," I say awkwardly backing out of the kitchen.

"Okay."

* * *

I burst into my study and hop happily into my large leather chair.

"Well aren't you rather chirpy today?"

"Who me? No, I'm not chirpy, who's chirpy? I'm not chirpy," I state, taking a minute to get myself looking serious. This is serious business. I don't want to let him see me with my guard down. "Anyway, Geragos, tell me, what have you found out?"

Geragos sighs heavily and sinks into his chair. "Well, I hate to say this, but I told you so. Everyone thinks this whole charade is just that. A charade. Everyone thinks this marriage is another sham. This girl, she came out of nowhere, this huge wedding at Disneyland, it's just too much for a lot of people to handle, sir."

"I know it's too much for people to handle, but don't think that this is what people are thinking. This is only what tabloids are feeding them to sell more of their trash. I told you it'd be like this at first. But people's minds will change. You watch."

"I don't know," Geragos says doubtfully.

"Trust me," I say with a reassuring smile.

* * *

**Christina's P.O.V.**

I walk out to the game room, which is not too far from the main house, freshly showered and dressed and finally out of my pijamas for the first time today. Only at 8 o'clock, which is not too bad, considering a couple days ago I hadn't changed out of them at all.

Entering the room, lit with only the light of the countless games, I see Michael has already gotten a head start at pinball.

"Aaah!" he yells in disappointment, when his ball goes straight through the plastic flappers.

"Too bad," I chime in, "I think I'm just going to have to beat you." I shrug calmly.

Michael turns around with a big smile on his face. "Oh, let's see about that, shall we?" He steps aside. "Ladies first."

I step up to the machine confidently, pull the plunger forcefully and watch the ball bounce while the machine dings and chimes. It gets closer to the bottom and I push the buttons on the each side of the machine to activate the flappers. Although the flappers are flashing wildly, the ball goes straight through the hole.

"What the heck was that?" Michael exclaims.

"Well," I say, turning to him, "I actually kinda-sorta don't really know what I'm doing."

"What?" Michael says with a growing grin on his face that turns in to howling laughter, unable to contain himself. I can't help but chuckle along with his infectuous laughter. "You got me there," he says still laughing. "You fooled me. You looked like you knew what you were doing. I have to admit I got scared there for a minute."

"What? I never played pinball before!" I have to defend myself.

"You've never played before? That's impossible. That's not even normal. Here, I'll show you."

After a few lessons, and almost three hours of tournaments, to his surprise he learned that I catch on quickly, and several of those tournaments I actually won.

"Unbelievable," Michael says, as we relax on the couch by the soda fountain sipping on some soda.

"Yeah, bet you didn't think I'd learn, did you?"

"I was kind of hoping you wouldn't," he chuckled. He stares at me for a second.

"What?" I challenge.

"Oh, nothing." I can see he wants to say something, I can feel it.

"Come on, I know it's something, what's on your mind, Michael?" I urge, curiously.

"Um, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Have you... had many boyfriends?" he asks shyly, looking down as if ashamed.

"Oh is that what you wanted to ask?" I ask amused.

"Oh, yeah, but it's not important, really," he recovers.

"It's okay Michael," I assure. "Um, no, not really. Actually I've only ever had one."

"Really?" he asks, interested. "Why is that? I mean, you're a smart, beautiful woman..."

I blush. "Oh, I don't know," I say self-conciously.

"I don't think it's because nobody is interested; that's hard to believe."

"No, that's not it. I mean, I've been asked out, but I don't know, I just haven't been interested."

"I know what you mean," Michael says knowingly. "Then why haven't you been interested, what is it about a guy that interests you?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions, Michael," I taunt, taking my turn to elbow him in the ribs.

"Ouch," he said turning beet red, rubbing his side. "No, I guess I am just curious, just chatting you know. Trying to get to know you better."

I take my time to gather my thoughts. "I haven't really thought about what I look for in a guy, since I have never actually looked for one." I pause. "I remember John, a guy who sat next to me in science class in my senior year of high school was an intelligent and confident guy. That alone attracted me to him."

Michael nods, interested. He gestures for me to continue.

"Then to my old job at the cleaning agency. The boss' son, Will, is about my age, and had the cutest smile. He was always a sight for sore eyes. And I'd always kill for a nice smile," I add as an afterthought, still smiling of the memory of Will fresh in my mind.

I look up at Michael who looks like he's lost in thought himself. "You know, you have one of the nicest smiles I've seen."

One of Michael's famous smiles starts to form slowly on his face, although he is still looking down into his lap where he has his hands clasped. "Thanks," he replies with a shy giggle.

"You're welcome," I say proudly and sincerely.

"How about another tournament?" he says excited, dragging me out of the couch by my right arm, and I almost fall to the floor. "I'm going to obliterate you this time, Christina" he declares with one of his biggest smiles shining right at me.

"Okay," I giggle confidently, "Let's see about that." He shoots the plunger as hard as he can, and after an amazing ten minutes and thousands of points scored, it was finally my turn to shoot.

"Beat that! HA! HA!" he exclaims with that very same huge smile he had on his face earlier, but this time it looked a bit forced.

"Okay," I reply suspicious. Why is he smiling so much? I sneak a peak at him, and discover Michael standing next to me, arms crossed, with that big grin still plastered on his face. What is he up to now?

"What are you doing?" I demand.

"Whatever do you mean, Christina?" he replies with a smile bigger than ever, if that's possible, and a huge chuckle looked like it was going to burst from behind it.

"Michael, stop it!" I punch him in the arm.

"Stop what?" he asks innocently, the big smirk hasn't yet left his face.

"I shouldn't have said you have a nice smile. You're smiling at me every chance you get. Every time you turn around."

Michael let out a guffaw that could probably be heard all the way to the main house. He's bent over laughing so hard he clutches his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he says between breaths, "I can't help it if I'm charismatic."

"Charismatic? Honestly you don't have to try that hard."

He stands up still clutching his stomach. "What?"

I open my eyes wide in realization of what I had meant to say I just said backwards. "I mean... you're not charismatic..." I blurt out, trying to save the day.

It didn't work, because by now, Michael is hooting and hollering, rolling around on the ground.

Oh my God. Oh my God. I can't just shut up can I? I look at my watch, and by now it's almost midnight. "Um, I think I'm going to head to my room, Michael," I say loudly bending over a bit so he might hear me.

"Okay, I'll take you," he says out of breath. "Help me up."

"Get yourself up," I pout.

"Oh come on, help me up, will you?"

I stretch out both of my arms and he grabs on to both. I can see tears are coming out of his eyes. "It's not that funny."

"Yeah it is," he assures. The cold air hits us hard as we walk out of the game room and towards the main house.

* * *

**Michael's P.O.V.**

These past couple weeks I have been in too many meetings to count. With an upcoming presentation of my song "What More Can I Give" at the Radio Music Awards and plans for a new music video, I have been in the presence of endless lawyers, representatives, doing planning and negotiating, brainstorming and putting plans into action, that I haven't had much time for anything else.

One thing I can't stop thinking about is what a great time I had with Christina playing pinball. I love that she's always up for anything. Now that I think about it, anytime I've actually made a concious effort to spend time with her, we've always had a good time. But sometimes I think, do I want that? They say business and pleasure do not mix, but a part of me feels sorry for the girl, who was hurled into a position like this. She looks so lonely, and God do I know what it's like to be lonely. Besides, she thinks I have a nice smile. And that I'm charismatic. I chuckle inwardly.

"Mr. Jackson," someone said.

"What?" I say, snapping out of my daydream. I just spaced out in the middle of a meeting. I've never done that before. Not being able to concentrate only tells me that I need to take care of what's on my mind the most.

"You know what guys I have to go. We'll just have to resume this tomorrow."

"Everything okay Mr. Jackson?"

"What? Oh yeah. Just need to take care of something at home."

* * *

It is dusk when I arrive at home, and I hop out of the black townscar, race up the curved stairwell and head straight for Christina's bedroom. I knock softly. It's completely quiet in there, I hope she's not sleeping.

She opens the door and smiles when she sees me. "Oh, welcome to my chambers, your majesty. Have you come to visit?" she mocks.

"Oh be quiet. I just came to see what you're up to."

"Nothing," she says looking down at herself. She has on black sweat pants, a purple long sleeved shirt and her hair is up in a pony tail. "Just doing a little writing. It keeps me company. You know," she says sadly. It breaks my heart. It hurts even more to know that I am part of the reason she's in this situation.

"Hey, you want to watch a movie with me?" She nods her head yes, so I quickly lead her into my bedroom. "Come on!" Just inside the door are the controls for the T.V. and at the push of a button, a fifty-five inch screen TV rises up from the floor.

"Wow!" I laugh at her surprise.

"I was thinking we'd watch 'The Last Samurai'. It just came out on DVD."

"Sounds good to me."

There's no couch in the room, so we both plop up pillows for our backs on the large king sized bed, put up our feet and wait for the movie to start.

"Oh! I forgot the popcorn, the snacks, the sodas! What's a movie without all that?"

Christina giggles. "But you'll miss the beginning!"

"That's okay, you can fill me in. I'll be right back."

I hurry downstairs and look through a few cabinets in the pantry. Some popcorn, licorice sticks, and Milk Duds. Classic. High fiving myself in my head, I return back into the kitchen and in the refrigerator I grab two orange sodas. I put everything down after I remember the popcorn needs to be popped. Four minutes later, I empty the popped buttery popcorn into a large red ceramic bowl, and head back up the stairs with the goodies.

"I'm back," I announce happily. But Christina is fast asleep.

I sigh. I can't say that I don't feel a tad disappointed, but who knows, maybe she hasn't been getting enough sleep or maybe she's feeling stressed. I put down the snacks on the far end of the dresser, take a blanket out of the bottom drawer and cover Christina lightly with it.

After watching what was left of the movie by myself I walk over to the window, looking out of it pensively. I like to look upon the grounds of Neverland at night, the glow of the moon, the clear night sky and the billions of stars it contains. Whenever I look at the stars I think of an ancient belief that the night time sky was only a dark blanket covering the bubble of earth from the suns rays, with little holes in it that allowed some of it to shine through. I can never remember what culture that is from. But but when I look at the sky, I can understand why people would think that.

Christina stirs in the bed. "Hey there sleepyhead," I tease.

"Michael, I'm so sorry," Christina says groggily. "I fell asleep, I'm sorry. I'll just go to my room." She says as she gets off of the bed.

"No, it's okay, stay here. You looked so comfortable. I'll sleep on the floor."

"No, Michael, you don't have to sleep on the floor. Sleep on your bed, silly. I'll just go to my room. It's just right there..."

"Christina," I plead. We didn't really get to hang out and I had even cancelled my meeting to be with her. "Just.. Don't go. Please."

She stops and sits back down. "Okay, I won't go." She covers herself up with the blanket. "But don't sleep on the floor. Look, this bed is huge! You can sleep on that side and I'll sleep on this side," she says after awhile, pointing to the left side of the bed.

Sleep _with _her? Like sleep with her? "But what if, like, my hand happens to land on your... somewhere it's not supposed to?"

She laughs heartily. "I don't think that will happen." She puts a hand over her face to hide her smile.

I suppose nothing could happen. Apprehensive, I get in on the left side of the bed and she gets in on her side. After wishing each other goodnight, almost immediately I start to hear her breathing get heavier and heavier. I don't want this to be it, I wanted to talk at least. Most of my friends already know me to like to have hours long phone conversations at night.

"Christina," I say softly, but she doesn't respond. I inch myself toward her backwards so that maybe I'd catch her attention and keep her from falling asleep. Her breathing is still heavy though, so I know it didn't work.

I sigh and close my eyes. How frustrating. I should have talked to her. That's what I left the meeting to do wasn't it? I think I'll give it another try, so I move towards her again, this time I have a feeling that I'm not too far from her, but she still doesn't stir. Maybe if I just touched her...

"Ahhhh!" Christina screams followed by a loud thud on the floor.

"Oh my God, Christina are you o..." I manage to say before I feel myself fall and land on something.

"Ow!" That something must have been Christina.

"You knocked me over!" she accuses. "You knocked me over and then fell on me!" But I start laughing, this is too funny. "Get up!"

"I can't!" I say struggling. I probably could get up if I could stop laughing.

"Me either, it's like we're tangled in the bedsheets!" she laughs.

"I'm actually pretty comfortable," I say matter of factly.

"Yeah right. I feel like someone tucked me in." We both laugh.

Silence falls on us. Now is the time to do it. _Tell her how you feel!_

"Can I make a confession?" I say changing the subject and still entangled in the bedsheets, but funnily enough neither one of us makes an effort to get up.

"Mmm hmm" she answers sleepily.

"Don't fall asleep, though."

"I won't, I promise."

I sigh. Here goes nothing.

"There's this girl... I like her."

"Oh?" she asks suddenly not sounding so sleepy.

"Yeah."

"Oh," she replies. "I'm happy for you. And does she know you like her?"

"No, I don't think so."

"And why not?" she asks.

"I haven't told her." I confess staring blankly into the room, not being able to see anything because of the darkness.

"Why not?"

"I'm afraid to tell her. She's not like other girls. What if she doesn't like me the way I like her?"

"The only way you'll know is if you let her know. What if she _does_ like you the way you like her?"

I think about it for a second. I suppose judging by the way I have acted with Christina she probably has no idea that I smile on the inside every time I see her, or that I get butterflies in my stomach every time I smell her perfume, and that I daydream in important meetings about the time we've spent together.

"Would you tell the guy you like how you feel about him?"

"Probably only until he told me first."

Wow, she said that like she knows something. Does she know? Could she know? My head is spinning. My heart is racing. I won't let it sink. I should go for it.

"You know, I... it's hard for me to say, I don't know really how to say it... but…" I stutter.

"What, Michael? You can tell me. You can tell me if it makes you feel better to tell someone."

" I like you, Christina." I confess quickly

"Me?" she says sounding genuinely surprised.

"Yes, you." Still wrapped up in the bedsheets, I lean towards her, the air smelling of her shampoo, my lips somehow find hers, they taste sweet and feel soft and warm. She kisses me back softly and my heart is fluttering in my chest, and the only sounds in the room are of our breaths. In this very moment the only thing that my mind can comprehend is Christina and I.

I can honestly say that this has become one of the best nights of my life.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note. I had this chapter all written out, but I didn't have internet access, so I saved it in my notebook, which unfortunately I left somewhere. I did this out of my memory, and I have a feeling I'll be revising this later. Enjoy!**

**Christina's P.O.V.**

Delving deep into my innermost thoughts I find I have some very mixed feelings about Michael from these past few months of knowing him. Honestly I still don't really understand him, his contract or this relationship. However I've learned that if I don't ask questions and go with the flow, my time here will be much more pleasant.

The first few weeks I began to live here were very lonely. I felt as if this huge ranch was my jail cell. I had no one to talk to; no one ever strikes up a conversation with me, especially Luisa and her people who, after all that has happened still has it in for me. When I walk into a room, the people in it stop what they're doing, stop their conversations and look down. It makes me feel like all of a sudden, with no fault of my own, I have become very unpopular. To make myself feel better I tell myself that people probably feel intimidated by me now, for whatever reason, and feel like they'd have nothing to say to me.

I don't feel very comfortable around the house either. No matter what my marital status may be now, the things here on this ranch aren't really mine and I feel bad using anything. Nor can I go out to distract myself. I do have the car Michael gave me, but there have been paparazzi guarding Neverland's gate since we returned from the wedding. And after seeing what they do to Michael, I would never risk going out by myself. No, those days are over. So almost always I end up by myself, shut up in my room in my own space, the only place that I really ever feel comfortable.

However the past couple of weeks have been so much better and things have changed notably. All of a sudden Michael has invited me to spend time with him, and although at first I didn't want to go and deal with him, and instead stay in my room where it's safe, I decide to go. Not to mention that I'm not even sure if I HAVE to go or not; like I'd be going against the contract or something.

Something in me wanted to see the happy-go-lucky Michael that I know he can be and is fun to be around. Because when we are together we have so much fun. To me it seems like we could have been best friends in another time and in other circumstances. And with that smile he has... OH THAT SMILE... it's not easy NOT to fall for him because at times he has the qualities of the perfect guy. But then he goes and reminds me that all we ever are is only part of a contract.

Then I have to think, why take the time to be with me when he doesn't really have to? I argue this to myself all the time in the solitude of my room.

I sigh. But last night he kissed me and told me he had feelings for me. The revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. Deep inside I think it was the thing I most wanted to hear from him, but never ever expected. He's like a platonic love. A forbidden fruit. Someone with whom I could never be with for whatever reason. I sigh deeply.

Today, my eyes heavy from not being able to sleep from the insomnia last night caused. If there was ever a time I was confused it was now. It seems like the confession came out of thin air, really. I honestly didn't think he really liked me at all. After all is said and done, I am extremely afraid of getting hurt. I'm never sure when he's playing the role of "doting husband" of the contract and being genuine. When is it just for show and when is it for real? I just don't know.

* * *

Today the world doesn´t seem half as gloomy as it did yesterday. Finally emerging out of the seclusion of my bedroom, I want to feel the warm sun on my face, the wind in my hair and the pure joy of being alive, which is something I was beginning to forget existed.

Walking in the area immediately in the back of the house, which I wouldn´t quite call a backyard since the ranch is just so huge, the lemon trees are giving off their fragrance. It is in the middle of autumn and the trees are shedding. Their leaves fall randomly on the well kept grass. It looks a little messy, and I guess I can rake those leaves since I really don´t have anything better to do. Grabbing a rake that is leaning against one of the trees, I begin to rake together the crunchy brown leaves, humming blissfully to a random melody I have in my head.

The humdrum chore gets my mind wandering on none other than the events of last night. I feel giddy when I think back to his soft lips on mine, I couldn´t help but gently kissing and tasting him back. His kisses weren´t hungry they were gentle, they weren´t passionate, but sweet. Either way, my heart melted. However I know from experience that I shouldn´t get carried away with my feelings for this man.

I stop in my tracks.

_My feelings... _So that´s what it is. I _do_ have feelings for him.

They must be so complex that I don´t think I can even put them into words. I don´t think my own brain can quite comprehend what they are. It´s so easy to fall in love with him, but it´s _so_ obvious why I should stay away from him. He´s a guy with a lot of influence, people can get jealous and try to turn him against me. He can shut people out completely, and when he does that he can be ruthless. No pity, no compassion, just plain cruel.

Even our short relationship has had so many ups and downs it´s hard to know when he´s up and when he´s down. But Michael is like a drug, when he´s up he takes you _way _up there, and all you want in life is to figure out how to stay up there with him and never ever come down.

"What are you doing?" a shrill voice demands.

"What?" I turn around to see Luisa with her hands on her hips. I swear she must have been born with her hands on her hips because that's the only way I ever see her stand.

"What's wrong with raking some leaves, is that against the law?"

"That's what," Luisa says pointing up into the sky.

In the distance just past the lemon trees I see two helicopters. What are they doing there? How is me raking leaves entertaining? Can they even _do _that?

Luisa snatches the rake out of my hands. "Leave this alone," she says tartly walking away.

"Well if you would have done it right, I wouldn't have had to touch your rake in the first place, now would I?" I retort rolling my eyes. At that she storms of just that much faster.

Serves her right.

* * *

**Michael´s P.O.V.**

Today is a day that I have been working towards for the past couple of years. To finally release publicly a song which I originally wrote in 1998 to be released to aid the refugees of the Kosovo War but rewrote and rerecorded after the September 11th attacks in the US. I am so happy that the likes of Beyonce, Mariah Carey, Nick Carter, Celine Dion, Luther Vandross and many others came together as one to rally to the aid of thousands of innocent victims. Music in reality can touch souls. _I_ know that, and I finally get to show it to the world at none other than the American Music Awards.

I´m taking Christina with me so that the world can see her for properly for the first time. She is understandibly nervous, the poor thing, she has never done anything like this in her life.

In the limo Christina is nervously clasping my hand. "Don´t be nervous, it´ll just make everything worse," I tell her out of experience.

"That´s easy for you to say." The stylists with us that are on call in case of any emergencies laugh.

"I´d bet you I´m just as nervous as you are," I defend. "No matter how often I´ve done red carpets, I can´t get used to it, which is why I try not to do them if I can."

"Wait, what? Red carpet? There's going to be a red carpet?" she exclaims, almost in hysterics.

"Yeah, didn't Geragos tell you?"

"I haven't seen Geragos, Michael."

_Damn it can't that man do anything right? _I lean in close to her and whisper so that no one else could hear but Christina. "You're not alone, I'll get you through this."

Our limo pulls up to a wide red carpet, with fans in bleachers, standing up instead of sitting down to see their favorite stars. In front of them, surrounding the red carpet but behind a barricade of greenery are the press, with their loads of flashing cameras, and reporters with microphones. Our door opens and Christina squeezes my hand.

"You'll be great, just stick with me. And remember, nothing personal." At that she gets out, as somewhat of a hush comes over the crowd as they wait to see who is coming out of the limo next. This is the first time that I am able to see and fully appreciate Christina. I marvel at her elegant white shimmering dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, her glimmering diamond necklace, which I had picked out especially for her to wear tonight, as a matter of fact, the stylists worked her dress around it, and her golden hair in what I can only describe as a messy bun, with a few blonde curls falling softly around her face.

"Well are you coming or are you going to leave me out here by myself?" she demands with a smile on her face.

I get out of the limo then, and as I do, the roar of noise fills the whole of the tented red carpet area. Fans cheer and reporters call my name to get their interview or their perfect shot. Everyone is demanding my attention, however there is one young man who catches my eye for no reason in particular. I decide to give him his interview. I lead Christina towards this reporter, who is now ferverently speaking into his microphone, no doubt introducing me to his viewers.

"Michael! Jesse from E! News, tell me how does it feel to be here and to be winning the new Humanitarian Award?"

"It feels wonderful, it really does."

"And you're presenting a new song tonight, are you not?"

"Yes, I am. And it is what I am most proud of. I am so honored that I can be a part of something so wonderful and special to send relief to people who really do need it."

"This is Christina, Michael's brand new wife," Jesse says into the cameras. "Christina, what does it mean to you that your husband is getting the Humanitarian Award?"

She leans in close. "I am very proud of him. He does a lot of great things, and it's nice to know that people notice and that he gets recognition for it."

"Thank you," I say to the young reporter, who looking a little disappointed at being cu off, chatters away into his camera as I lead Christina into the red carpet.

I wave up at the fans in the bleachers, not wanting to pay a little attention to them, and in response they cheer wildly. I don't ever forget my fans because if it wasn't for them, I honestly don't know where I'd be.

"Look at you," Christina says up to me proudly. "You getting awards, everyone cheering for you. Everyone loves you," she beams.

Everyone loves me? I have gone through too much to be as naive as to think that everyone loves me. But that Christina said that just now warms my heart up, just a little. I look down at her and smile. If I could just believe that, just for today...

_Everyone loves me._


	18. Chapter 18

**Christina's P.O.V.**

When Michael invited me to accompany him to Las Vegas for some music video he is going to shoot I was ecstatic. Not because of the music video, but because I had never been to Vegas before. Walking hand in hand down Las Vegas Boulevard with a disguised Michael I marvel at the city lights. I always hear of Vegas being so fun, lively and bigger than life, so actually being here tonight is exciting.

"Look at that huge hotel! It looks like a palace!" I say pointing in wonder at the majestic building in front of us with a brilliant water show in its foreground.

"That's the Bellagio. It's beautiful isn't it?" Michael says.

"It sure is," I reply turning to him. The face I see scares me to my wits end and I jump. "I keep forgetting it's you under there," I say, poking at the disguise on his face. "You look like someone else entirely."

He smiles. He has on a long black wig tied in a pony tail, a baseball cap sloppily on top of that, large aviator glasses covering his unmistakable eyes, a thin mustache and big crooked teeth. No one walking around has any idea who he is.

"Your looks can literally kill, Michael."

He laughs loudly. "You want to go inside?"

"Sure!"

Inside the casino it is very spacious with thousands of brightly lit slot machines everywhere.

"Let's try your luck," Michael tells me as we walk towards the quarter machines and hands me a twenty dollar bill. Near us are a couple of older ladies perched on stools, pushing the buttons in front of them steadily and smoking cigarrettes.

"Okay, what do I do?"

"First you put the bill into the machine." The machine jerks the bill in.

"See," he points to the display, "it's telling you that you have twenty dollars worth of credits. Now you can place your bet with these buttons." Michael points to a different set of buttons along the face of the machine. "You can bet eight times the single bet of a quarter which would be two dollars total."

I push the "8x" button on the machine then "bet". The dials started rolling around in the window until they settle finally on a blue seven, a bar, and a white seven.

"So what happened?"

"You lost," Michael says amused.

"Oh well how exciting!" I say looking at the two ladies still pushing the buttons on their machine fervently. "Do people actually sit here and stare at this machine all day?"

"As long as their money last them," he chuckles. "Some people can sit at a penny machine and twenty dollars can last them for hours!"

"How absolutely boring!"

"Not when you win!"

I laugh. "I suppose not."

"Let's go to a poker table!" I enthuse, winking. "Get some of the real Vegas action."

"Oh, you like action, do you?" Michael teases while pushing the cash button on the machine.

"I _do _like action as a matter of fact," I flirt.

In a smoke filled back room are the high roller poker tables where Michael and I find an empty table. As I sit down, Michael puts a stack of multicolored chips in front of the both of us.

"How much is this worth," I ask pointing at the orange, black, purple and burgundy chips in front of me.

"Ten thousand dollars."

Now, although I know how to play poker from the many summers spent at the YMCA growing up, I wouldn't go as far to bet real money in Vegas. "Ten thousand dollars, Michael? Don't you think that's a bit excessive?"

"What? I thought you liked action, adventure and excitement?" He widens his eyes at me and I laugh through my teeth. "Just because it's in front of you doesn't mean you have to use it all."

"Then why DID you put it in front of me," I challenge.

"Just in case things get fun."

Just a mere half hour into playing, Michael has won most of the hands because after the initial bet, he raises so extravgantly that I'm afraid to match his bet and lose everything I have. So I end up folding.

"Michael that's not fair!" I grumble, frustrated at not winning.

He laughs. "What do you mean it's not fair? That's how this game is played, woman. You have to risk something to win something." He smiles broadly.

A robust man in a light brown suit approaches our table. It looks to me like this guy might be a high roller. The dealer dealt us our hands, and right off the bat the man bet five thousand dollars. I gasp. I was right, he is a high roller. That is more than Michael ever bet. I look at the man, whose face is stern. My gaze falls on Michael, who raises his eyebrows and flashes his fake crooked smile. I chuckle before regaining my composure again. The man face is expressionless as he stares at his cards.

He did say that I had to risk something to win something. Why not? I call his bet pushing five stacks of multicolored chips to the middle of the table. I only have a pair of queens! Did I really bet five thousand dollars on a pair of queens?

We put our cards down at the same time. Almost immediately the dealer moves the chips together with what looks like a plastic hockey stick and places the chips in front of me.

"Huh?" I'm confused. So this means...

"You won!" Michael shouts, picking me up and twirling me around. And it finally hits me. I won! Excited for that fact, I don't realize Michael has me in his arms, and as soon as I do, he puts me down, his smile spread wide across his face. My heart thuds in my chest.

"I did, didn't I!"

"You did!"

We collect our chips and turn them in, leaving with more money than we came in with.

With gambling out of our system, Michael leads me back down Las Vegas Boulevard, what is more commonly known as 'The Strip'. It's so bright even at night and full of life. "Thank you for bringing me, Michael. This place is so magical."

He looks down at me smiling the smile that doesn't seem to have been able to be wiped off his face all evening. He doesn't say anything, but his face says it all.

A few long blocks down we stop in front of a very large and very beautiful hotel shining gold from the lights reflected on it, a large grove of green trees and in front of everything a bright blue pond. It looked like we were in paradise.

"This is where we'll be staying."

"It's beautiful!" I say awestruck.

We are staying on the top floor, in a penthouse suite just like we did on our wedding night at the Disneyland hotel. But this is magnificent. Like a true gentleman Michael opens the double doors to our suite and steps aside for me to pass. The foyer had marble floors and arches, stunning dark wood furniture that lead into a living area. The view from this room was breathtaking; looking through the windows it seemed like I was outside floating over the entire Las Vegas area.

"I have no words to even describe how overwhelming this view is," I say.

"You just did."

"What?"

"You called it overwhelming." He looked pleased. "That's exactly what it is."

I can't say how long we both have been staring out at the panoramic view, looking at other hotels, the cars and buildings. Michael takes my hand and leads me to a door to the left off of the living room and we stop at the closed door.

"Your room," he whispers.

Although I feel beat from the day of traveling and subsequent running around in Las Vegas, I had hoped to spend a little more time with Michael. I do feel a bit intrigued by him. He's not like every other guy out there. I catch myself draw a long sigh as I nod my head.

"I had a really fun time with you," Michael stuttered. His bashful eyes are looking straight at his feet.

"Me too," I confess.

"You'd better get some sleep, Christina. Tomorrow is the video shoot. Sweet dreams."

I open the door and take a step inside. "Sweet dreams, Michael." I look at him, and as I do, I see he was looking at me, but he looked down, smiling bashfully. I think I want him to kiss me, but after waiting awhile he makes no move, and I close the door slowly. I giggle. He intrigues me with everything he does. I don't understand him, and I don't think I want to.

Standing with my eyes closed and leaning on the closed bedroom door I have to ask myself, did that just happen? Did any of it just happen?

* * *

We arrive on the set after a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage and potatos. I'm surprised he even touched any of it, because I really have never seen him eat that much before.

"Good morning Mr. Jackson."

"Hey, Victor," Michael replies.

"Victor Gonzalez, director," an average sized guy, in his late twenties with thick glasses, a blue polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts extends his hand for me to shake.

"Hi, I'm Christina."

Michael leads me to a row of black directors chairs behind another row of cameras and televisions. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek. "Enjoy the show," he winks.

Looking around me I see studio lights hanging from the ceiling, expensive camera equiptment everywhere. In the old Las Vegas theater people start filing into the open space. Dancers for the video, I assume. I have no idea what this video will be about, nor even what the song will be since Michael refused to tell me. 'It's a surprise,' he had said with an excited boyish grin. However he doesn't look boyish now at all. If anything he looks the exact opposite. Cool, calm, collected and in charge. He looks like he's giving directions to the director, standing in the middle of the theater, pointing this way and that.

I catch myself staring at him. He looks exceptionally handsome today in his ripped white t-shirt, tight black jeans, a brown leather jacket and belt that hangs off to one side of his waist. A classic MJ belt, stylish, not his standard red shirt with black slacks. It's contemporary, up-to-date and dare I think it? Sexy.

"Have everyone come in through the doors like we discussed and lets see how it looks," he yells towards Victor's general direction as he hops into a directors chair next to mine. He flashes me a smile as the cameras start rolling. The double doors are open and the crowd of fifty people or more flows into the room.

"Oh man," Michael slaps his leg. "Do it again, look at that guy making a face! Victor, no faces." So they did it again. And again. As they did every scene, all day long. The crowd watched on the large theater stage while Michael danced and felt out the song on and around the tables. At some points he was kicking things, twirling around on the tables and I was afraid he might fall.

I had never see Michael perform, but the experience was awe-inspiring as I'm sure it was for everyone in the room. There is just a magic about the way he moves, the way he _feels_ each beat with his body, and that rhythm and melody really radiates and connects to his audience. No wonder he's as big of a star as he is.

It's interesting that this video is being done backwards, meaning that instead of Michael being on stage performing the song, the 'fans' ar where he should be. I can only wonder at what his reasons are for doing it like that and what exactly it is he's trying to communicate.

He is sitting in his directors chair with his head together with Victor talking about different takes, what they liked, what they didn't like so they could send their film to editing. This experience is exciting. It's not every day that you're invited to watch on the set of a Michael Jackson music video, nevermind the fact that I'm technically married to the man.

But I'm exhausted. We've been here literally all day. I got to give Michael one thing though; he certainly is a perfectionst and likes to get things done right, giving attention even to the most minute detail. I stand to stretch my muscles.

"Okay, one more time," I hear Michael shout to the crew. I swear I hear faint lamenting sigh from the extras.

He is in the center of the empty theater when the music starts, as he should be, but instead of dancing, to my surprise he rushes towards me and pulls me into the center of the theater. He twirls me around slowly, his hand in mine, and the other resting on the small of my back and pulls me in close. He starts to dance slowly.

_Oh. My. God. What's happening? Is he really doing this in front of everyone? How... how... romantic._

Over the noise of the music playing bakc in the speakers, Michael leans down in my ear and I hear him sing,

_This time I'm gonna do my best to make it right,  
I can't go on without you by my side, _

He twirls me around again to the cheers and applause of everyone witnessing.

_If you see her tell her this for me,  
__All I need is one more chance at love..._

Michael stops singing then, but the music keeps going and he still holds me tightly against him and we slow dance. Even though the music called for a funkier faster dancing style than what we were doing, for some reason, being so close to him, moving so slowly felt so right. I was starting to forget that we were in front of so many people until Michael breaks away from me and starts to dance as the song builds up to the bridge. He starts singing again, but loudly and everyone could hear, his eyes closed.

_And I would walk around this world to find her,  
And I don't care what it takes, no,  
I'd sail the seven seas to be near her,  
And if you happen to see her tell her this for me._

It looked like he was performing, moving the same way for me as he had been awhile ago for the cameras, but I can tell; he's feeling the music to it's core and trying to tell me maybe what he might be able to otherwise. He embraces me then, one hand on the back of my head, the other around me. He does that as the rest of the song plays out, and when it's over, as if he suddenly got extremely shy, he grabs my hand and leads us towards the exit quickly.

"You are so funny," I laugh.

He squeezes my hand. "Why am I funny?"

"We danced, in front of everyone, and we just ran away afterwards."

"What, I got nervous, I had to get out of there,"

"It's just that you did the same thing when you announced the engagement. You shocked everyone speechless, and we ran away," I can't control my laughter now.

We laugh all the way back to our hotel. Michael opens the suite door for me and I step in. "I know, I didn't feel nervous when we were dancing together, I just did what I felt was in my heart," he explains.

I look into his eyes that are serious and shy at the same time. "That's so sweet, Michael. It was so sweet, it really was."

"I don't think it's any coincidence that I'm working on this song in this exact moment in my life," he pauses. "I really meant what I said the other night. I really do care for you, Christina."

"I care for you too." Michael's eyes light up.

"I didn't know this was going to happen, I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't want any of it to happen."

We sit down on the couch facing the panoramic view of Las Vegas. "What do you mean," I ask softly.

"I didn't know I was going to fall in love with you."

I hesitate. "Love?"

"It wasn't part of the plan. It wasn't supposed to be this way. But I can't fight it anymore, Christina."

"Don't fight it." I state simply.

"What?"

"Don't fight it, Michael."

He leans into me crushing his lips against mine as he pushes me into the soft velvety sofa. His lips are soft, and taste so sweet. At first the kiss is soft and lingering, which quickly grows in heat and passion and intensity. He opens his mouth against mine, I feel his tongue and his teeth hungrily.

I feel the electricity from his fingertips as he slowly caresses my face, my neck and my breasts and my stomach. I throw my arms around his neck forcing his body upon me more than it already was. I was hoping that he would break away from me, tell me to behave myself, and then the moment would be over. One last ditch attempt to save myself from the hurt I would be caused if he were to grow cold with me again. Right now he's hot, too hot, and I don't think I can control myself any longer. I want him as much as I want anything in this world.

Michael rises from on top of me, bends down and picks me up from the couch and carries me into his bedroom, his lips never leaving mine. I don't think I could bear it if they did. He lays me on the soft bed, kissing me tenderly, taking off his brown leather jacket he was wearing at the video shoot. I reach up to touch his smooth white skin on his lean arms and neck while Michael is caressing my flat stomach, as if he could feel the butterflies that are in there from the way he kisses me.

He stops now though, and I get up on my elbows and watch him curiously as he closes all the blinds in the room, blocking all the light from the city that flooded our room. After turning on a single lamp in the corner of the room, setting the mood almost, he comes towards me carefully, as if he were studying me. Without a word, he lifts my white long-sleeved silk blouse over my head, leaving me in my white lace bra and black shiny pencil skirt I had been wearing today. He slowly pulls down the skirt, revealing my matching white lace panties.

"Christina, you are beautiful."

Michael sits there, looking at my body, then looking into my eyes. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I reach and lift his white shirt over his head. His skin is smooth and white, and I lean in to plant soft kisses into his irresistable neck, drinking in his scent. This must have put him over the edge, because before I knew it, he pins me down to the bed, his large hands and his mouth are on every inch my body.

I feel his hardness pressing against me with desire and my back arches up against him. I feel him unbuckle his belt and his jeans and slide them down over me, now he is warm and hard against my willing body.

"I want you, Christina."

"Michael..." was all I could muffle out. I wanted to scream for him to take me, that I wanted him too, but my head wasn't working, as my body was taking full command.

I wrap my legs around him, invitingly. He takes the hint, and slowly pushes his manhood into me. Waves of pleasure wash over me in those minutes, the moment I have been waiting for finally coming to pass, and my heart feels like it will explode feeling him fill me, and just the thought of it happening is enough to make me feel weak.

"Michael..." again unable to express my feelings for him at this moment into words, his name is the only thing that sounds itself out.

"Christina..." he responds, lovingly thrusting himself inside of me, his hands cupping my breasts, my head thrown back in pleasure.

Our first encounter doesn't last but ten minutes, naturally I want the moment to last forever, but neither of us can contain ourselves and we release the sexual tension we have been feeling for each other for almost a year in one extraordinary orgasmic cry.

We lay next to each other on his bed, both of us as naked as when we came into this world, still unable to take our lips or hands off of each other. And the rest of the night was just as magical. Can anything get more perfect?


	19. Chapter 19

**Christina's P.O.V.**

"Can I ask you something?" I ask, curled up in Michael's arms with the hotel's gray satin sheets draped over us.

"Sure."

"Can you tell me what your big plan is now? You keep talking about a plan, what exactly is it?"

Michael sighs heavily. "Well, Christina, in a nutshell it's just a plan I devised to get my life together and back on track." He pauses. "I don't know if you need to know."

"Why not?"

"Everything started as 'fool proof' plan, and someday I'll tell you... soon."

"Am I a part of it? Is marrying me a part of it?"

"Um.." He hesistates. "It was, but things changed. To tell you the truth I don't even know when things started changing."

"Mmm.." I whisper, my head on his chest. I can hear his heartbeat under me.

"Now can I ask _you _a question?"

"Anything."

"Remember at Neverland, you told me that you hadn't had a boyfriend before?"

"Yeah," I agree.

"So... I guess... I was wondering if..."

I giggle. I realize what he's trying to ask, but his awkwardness of the subject is thoroughly amusing. "If..." I encourage.

He shifts nervously. "If you've ever... God, Christina are you going to make me say it?"

"Yes," I chuckle.

He takes a breath. "Have you ever... ever been... intimate? With anybody else?"

I blush hearing those words, but Michael seems to be blushing even more than I am. "No," I answer simply. I've been attracted to guys before, but it never went to this extreme. And the guys who asked me out I simply wasn't interested in. I know, it's weird, especially for a twenty-five year old. But it's the truth.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, I'm just afraid of getting hurt." I turn on my stomach, my arms on his bare chest. I look into his big brown eyes. "I don't want to get hurt." I pause. "Don't hurt me, Michael."

With one hand he gently caresses my face. "I promise I won't hurt you, Christina."

The sun is trying to peek out from under the horizon, I can tell form a slight opening in the curtains. "We've been awake all night," I declare sleepily. "Maybe we should try and sleep." I turn around facing away from Michael, hugging one of the many fluffy pillows on the bed to my chest.

Michael hugs me tightly from behind. "I can't seem to rest when I'm this close to you."

"Mmm.." I answer feeling myself drift off.

The ring of the hotel phone in Michael's room scares me out of my peaceful slumber. Michael jumps too. "Now who in the world could that be?" he complains as he reaches for his jeans that had been carelessly thrown across the room the night before. "I turned the cell phone off, so if they're calling here this early it'd better be _very _important." he says while slipping his shirt back on.

"You're so cute when you're angry." He hops on the bed stealing a kiss. I laugh. "The phone is ringing!"

"Let them wait," he whispers so close to me I can feel his breath on my face, his large hands cupping my face so sweetly, my eyes half open dreamily enjoying the feelings of a brand new love I've never felt before. He slides his hand from my cheek to my hip as he reaches for the phone.

"What?" he barks into the receiver. He stiffens. "What!" he screams. "You've got to be kidding me! When I'm not home? This is bullshit!" He throws the phone across the room, narrowly missing the large windows.

"Oh my God, Michael, what's going on?" I shreik, afraid of his sudden reaction. What could have been so bad that made him respond this way?

He's trembling from anger, and pacing back and forth. Finding his shoes, he puts them on, not bothering to put on his socks, grabs his jacket and heads for the bedroom door.

"Michael!" I scream after him, kneeling on the bed, with only the smooth sheets to cover my bare body. A few seconds later, I hear the suite door slam shut.

What the hell just happened?

* * *

After a shower and getting dressed, I called everyone on my contacts list that Michael had put on my cell phone and especially Geragos plenty of times to find out what was going on, but no one answered my calls.

I heard a knock at the door and ran to it, hoping it's anyone I had been trying to call, hoping for some answers. But it's room service. "Your breakfast, ma'am."

"Oh sure, come in," I say out of breath, stepping aside to allow the man in a white chef's uniform roll the food cart in and star setting up the table. "Thank you," I murmur, as I walk into my bedroom. I feel as if I could vomit from the anxiety of not having a clue what is going on. I don't know what the plans are for today, or if there still are plans after something had obviously gone wrong. So all I can do is wait.

* * *

My cell phone rings, and jolts me out sleep. I jerk awake, my heart racing. I must have fallen asleep, and from the black sky outside of my bedroom window I can see that I must have been out for a long time. I fumble with the ringing phone, my mind still hazy from being awakened so suddenly. "Hello?"

"Christina, it's Geragos. You called?"

"Yeah, do you know what's going on with Michael? This morning he got a call, and he got so angry! He got so upset, Geragos, he threw the phone across the room! He stormed out and hasn't been back since." Geragos lets out a long sigh on the other end of the line. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"Uh, yes. How can I say this... Neverland's been raided," he declares matter-of-factly.

"Raided? What the hell does that mean?"

"Over sixty police officers raided Neverland this morning looking for evidence."

"Evidence for what? Really, for a lawyer you're really bad at explaining yourself," I say annoyed.

"They're accusing him of child molestation again."

"Wha...at?" _Oh no._ My heart sinks.

"Look I got to go, we're in meetings with the other lawyers trying to figure this thing out, and I really don't have the time to chat."

"Look, Geragos, listen to me. Just tell me where Michael is."

"We're in L.A. in meetings."

"In L.A.?" I'm surprised he's there so quickly. Well, I suppose he has to do what he has to do. Especially in an emergency like this. "Okay, just tell him I'm coming."

"Will do, got to go." _Click. _

I sink down onto my bed. Child molestation? No way. This has to be some sort of extortion tactic. Or _something_. Michael told me just this morning that he had devised a plan to get his life back on track from whatever he thought it was that he needed to fix. I don't think that this in any way was part of that plan.

* * *

A tall lean man, dressed in a black suit waits for me at my car with the door open. I decide to take a car back to L.A. instead of taking a flight there, since I can imagine what me showing up at the airport with the horrible news about Michael swimming around in the press would be like.

"Good evening, I'm Jared and I'll be driving you this evening."

"Hi Jared."

I hop into the backseat of the black limo. It's going to be a long ride, four hours or so, so I chose a limo instead of a regular car in case I wanted to lay down. I don't think I could rest if I wanted to anyway. What must Michael be going through right now is excruciatingly painful to think about. I know he had been accused before, maybe ten years ago, and earlier this year that Bashir documentary hit him hard. That's when I had first started working for him. He is nothing now like he was then, but now... who knows how he's taking it. I only hope he's holding it together.

My cell phone rings, and I dig it out of my pocket. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Geragos. We're heading up to the Ranch now." Well this changes things.

"Okay, see you guys there."

I suppose I should tell the driver that the plans have changed. Who knows what kind of changes he'll have to make to our route. I slide from the very backseat along side the six foot long side seats and tap on the glass separating me from the driver. Almost immediately it slides open, and Jared's face, a handsome face with a big friendly smile appears.

"Can I help you?" he asks most amicably.

"Hi Jared," he smiles at hearing his name. "Guess what, I'm so sorry, I'm not going to be going to LA anymore, I need to go straight to Neverland. Do I need to call your company or something?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll call them," he smiles.

"Oh. Okay." I look at him, he looks very young and too handsome to be in this line of work. His appearance is almost too attractive. It's like something you'd only see in a fashion magazine or on the runway. I feel like asking him what he's doing driving a limo, but I have to hold myself back a tad. He'd probably think I'm nuts.

I'm surprised when my phone starts ringing again. My phone hasn't had this much action, in well... never. "Hello?"

"Christina," Michael's angry voice booms. "Stay in Vegas, I'll be back there when things are taken care of."

"But Michael, I want to be there for you and..."

"Don't come." _Click._

Things have to be really bad, he sounded so absolutely furious. Well of course they are, I can only imagine what something like this would do to a person, and especially Michael, to whom everything in his life is always magnified a thousand fold. I'm still going even if I can't fix things for him like I'd like to, at the very least I can show through my presence that I'm there to support him. I won't run when times get tough.

The car pulls over and out of the windows I see we're pulling into a gas station. "I've got to get some gas," Jared announces though the still open window. "Would you like me to get you anything? Candy, chips?"

"No thank you, that's very nice of you though."

"No problem."

What started out as a four hour ride just turned into an eight hour long one. I convince myself I should rest before encountering what ever warzone I find in Neverland. I lay myself down on the long side seat and drift off to sleep.

* * *

"We've arrived at Neverland," Jared's smooth voice announces over an intercom.

"Oh!" I sit up startled and look around, at the too familiar driveway, large house and green trees and shrubbery shading it's perimeter. The car door opens for me and there Jared stands proudly. He's very tall, a lot taller than Michael, at least six feet two inches. His brown hair is worn stylishly and his big brown eyes combine well with his large genuine smile. "Thanks Jared."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Jackson." That name startles me a bit.

"Call me Christina. Thanks again."

I turn toward the house where Luisa and Cameron are standing. "Luisa, where is he?" I demand. She is trembling in anger and contempt at the sight of me.

"You! _You _have something to do with this!"

"Luisa," I say annoyed. "How can I possibly have anything to do with this? For goodness sakes, be reasonable." I say quickly, casting her aside and focusing my attention towards Cameron, the pretty girl who took my only friend Rachel's place when she was... well, I never knew what happened to her. "Cameron, where is he?"

"In his room. Hurry," she whispers.

"Thank you," I pat her on the arm affectionately. At least I know I'm not the only one who thinks Luisa's crazy.

Running up the stairs I reach Michael's room and punch in the security code which opens the door easily. The room is in absolute chaos. The beautiful four poster mohagany bed that once stood proudly in the center of the room has been broken. The spectacular statues have been shattered to pieces. The elegant and original paintings have fallen ripped to shreds on the floor. It looks worse in here than it would if a tornado had passed through. But no sign of Michael.

Up the wooden stairs, the door to the secret bedroom is locked. More than likely that's where he is laying refuge. "Michael!"

"Michael, it's me."

The door opens slowly, and a raging Michael appears. "What?"

"Michael, I'm so sorry," I blab. Is that all you can think of Christina? What can you say in this situation, really.

"Why are you here?"

"I came to support you. I couldn't just stand around while this was happening to you. I wanted to be with you."

He walks slowly down the stairs and towards me until his face was inches to mine. "I don't want you here." he barks, his face stern.

"Well, I'm not leaving." His words sting, but I can't believe what he's saying. He's very stressed, and probably doesn't want me to see him like this. I get it. That has to be it.

"You shouldn't have come." I see his tears coming and an obvious attempt to fight them back.

I touch his arm. "Michael, I'm not leaving," I soothe in a soft voice, caressing his arms. He couldn't fight off the tears then, and he all but collapses in my arms, sobbing, and I struggle to hold him.

"You shouldn't have come."


	20. Chapter 20

**Christina's P.O.V.**

I have never seen anything more devastating in my life. Watching Michael be taken from the airport hangar and into custody is something I never thought I'd see. Geragos had it arranged to do it in the cover of the hangar so the media wouldn't be able to get pictures of it, and so the children, who were safe at home in Neverland wouldn't have to witness such a frightening scene.

For as long as I have known Michael I have seen he can be stern and demanding at times, but that is only the end result of all his life's experiences that changed him. They say he'd changed after the Martin Bashir documentary scandal, and he had hardened and didn't trust anyone, when before he had be softer and trusting. Now, he seems to have changed again. He's neither hard nor soft. He's distant now, non responsive, as if he's not even there anymore. He looks like he's pushing people away who were once closest to him. I feel it too. I feel like I'm being pushed out, and it hurts so bad, but I say nothing. My problems and worries seem too insignificant compared to the ones he's facing. Michael is having a hard time letting himself be loved and cared for. It looks to me like he's just letting go.

I have prayed that this nightmare would be over as quickly as it has started, but my prayers seem to have gone unanswered because it has been three months since Michael's very public arrest and things haven't died down at all. I haven't seen anybody around the house. Michael is always off with his lawyers, as always being very hands on in everything concerning him. I have rarely seen him home, and when he is, it seems like he's avoiding me. I haven't seen the lawyers around either, in fact the last time I saw Geragos was the day Michael was arrested, when he quoted Michael saying '_Lies run sprints, but the truth runs marathons.' _God let's hope so.

Things have returned to normal for me I guess, back to me being stuck in my bedroom, feeling like I don't belong anywhere. I've done a lot of writing, a lot of reading and a lot of sleeping though. Most days I wish my life wasn't as complicated, like back when all I did was clean houses, back when everything was simple and clear. Back when I didn't have a stupid contract, wasn't in the public eye having everything I do scrutinized and picked apart. Why didn't she accompany Michael here? Why is she so serious here? Why doesn't she say anything?

Why does anyone even care?

It's been a pretty lonely couple of months and I have absolutely nobody to confide in. How can I possibly let off steam to anyone without letting slip my little secret? And if anyone found out... I don't want to even think about that. So I am alone. The only one who I _can_ talk to has major problems of his own. Mine look pretty petty in comparison.

In an attempt to fight the loneliness as much as I can, I decide to call the limousine company to send me a car and take me into town. The nearest town is a thirty minute ride from the ranch. I want to pick up a simple electric burner and a small refrigerator for my room so I don't have to go to the kitchen and depend on Michael's people for sustanance, nor do I have to live off of granola bars and candy if I stay in my room. I'd like to be as self suficient and completely independant as I can. If I absolutely_ have_ to live here, I have money of my own now and I can support myself. This house has never felt mine, and I doubt it ever will. It gives me something to do as well, not being used to sitting around and doing nothing. I've always been very active. I am completely capable of taking care of myself. And as for Luisa, she nor anyone else is allowed in my room. Everything in here is spotless to say the least. It would be an absolute sin if it wasn't.

A sleek black Lincoln Town car finds me waiting for it as it arrives to pick me up at the front entrance of the house. I slip inside.

"Nice to see you again, Christina," a smooth familiar voice sounds from the drivers seat.

"Jared! Hi! How nice to see you." That's weird seeing him here, although it I do find it refreshing. He smiles.

"Same here. Where to?"

"I'm going to the shopping center. But wait, aren't you based in Las Vegas? What are you doing here? Not that I'm not glad to see you."

He laughs. "No, as a matter of fact I'm based in Santa Maria. I had a few jobs and I ended up in Vegas."

"Wow, what a coincidence."

"I know, tell me about it." We laugh as we pull into the shopping center. Opening the door myself, which by the way I don't find a point in waiting for the driver to open the door for me when I am obviously capable of opening a door for myself, I walk out in the scorching sun, which is magnified by the asphalt parking lot. I haven't even taken twenty steps when a sea of flashes blind my vision. Confused, I put my arm over my eyes to shield them.

_"Where's Michael?"_

_"What do you think of the allegations?"_

_"Did he do it?"_

"Whoa! Whoa! Stand back!" Jared's voice booms authoritatively pushing the papparazzi back. He turns to me, towering over me, his look serious and concerned. "Do you want me to accompany you in?"

"I don't think I even want to go anymore," I say my voice trembling.

"You can go in to the store in the back, ask for what you need with the store manager. That way they can't take pictures of you. They won't be allowed in the store."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I've had plenty of experience in this," he beams.

"Thanks," I say, reassured.

* * *

"Are you ready to go home, Christina, or did you want to go somewhere else?"

I sigh. "God, just take me home!" I say impatiently.

He laughs at my agitation. "Okay." We start the drive back to Neverland, when Jared breaks the heavy silence.

"You really shouldn't go out alone."

"I know," I sigh.

"You should get someone to come with you, like a friend or something at least." He shrugs his broad shoulders.

"I... don't really have any friends." I admit. Jared raises his eyebrows, but remains silent, and waits for me to continue. "I'm from LA, all my friends and family are there. When I first moved here though I had a friend. Her name was Rachel." I smile as I remember Rachel, the times we would make fun of Luisa behind her back and that time we hung out at my apartment and had one too many cocktails.

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know." I fiddle with my hands. "I don't really have anyone to talk to. As a matter of fact, you're the person I've had the longest conversation with in a long time."

"Really?" He smooths his short dark brown hair back in disbelief. "Not even your... husband?"

Ashamed, I look down. No, not even him. Jared, if you only knew.

"I'm sorry, I know it's none of my business."

"Oh, no it's okay," I assure. "Really. Michael's been busy, you know with... what's going on." I shrug. "I'm surprised he's holding it together at all," I lie. I haven't even a clue to how he's doing.

We drive the rest of the way to Neverland with me in a contemplative silence. My mind wanders around in circles of the situation I seem to have put myself. Everything changed so quickly. I get a great job working at Neverland. I get surprised with a contract to marry the most famous person on Earth. We end up having feelings for each other. We act on those feelings. Then his world comes crashing down around him, and I feel like I've been lost amongst the rubble. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe _'we'_ shouldn't have happened. God, if Michael would have just never told me how he felt...

"We're here Christina," Jared announces, the car door already opened for me, his large hand outstreched for me to take. He helps me out of the car, and looking up at him, I admire his friendly smile and his trusting eyes.

"What?" he says bashfully. I must have stared at him too long.

"What do you say you become my driver? You say you live in Santa Maria, I could call you in when I need you. I've got a car." I pause. "And I wouldn't be alone anymore."

* * *

Tears stream down my face as I exit the house and approach Jared leaning against my silver Mercedes Benz. He's no longer wearing his suit which was part of his uniform when he worked for the limousine service. I told him there is no need for a uniform and he should dress as he normally does. He looks handsome in dark blue jeans a blue plaid button up shirt which he wears rolled up at the sleeves.

"What happened?" he asks concerned, straightening up.

"He _forbid _me to go," I stress, hardly able to get the words out being so upset.

I found out that Michael had been indicted a few days before which is the formal accusation against him in court. I wish I would have known so I could have been with him. Show my support somehow. But the same person who told me about it told me he was going to have another one in a few days, that the prosecution left out charges, so they wanted to have another indictment so he would be properly charged. But I have been forbidden to go.

Michael exits the house in a rush, and a very tall man with white shoulder length hair follows him closely. Where's Geragos? Is this a new lawyer? He seems surprised when he sees me, his eyes flickering between Jared and me. I wipe my tears away with my sleeves and approach Michael who has stopped not too far from us, seemingly waiting for a car as well. Jared steps back respectfully.

"Michael," I whisper. His eyes that had been wide a minute ago looked down in response. "Please, I'm begging you. Let me go with you. Please." I caress the side of his face with my right hand, my heart overflowing with emotion. If he'd just let me support him, I could show him he can get through this... together. Me and him.

He reaches up tho his cheek and cups his hand over mine. It feels so good to feel his skin on mine again. Closing my eyes to try to savor the moment, he slowly lowers my hand down and lets it go. "No," he whispers, heading towards the black sedan that just arrived. He disappears inside it, not before shooting a look at Jared, then me, his white haired companion in tow.

I can't help but let my frustration show in the form of a flood of tears as I watch him drive off. I spin around and dart into the open back seat of my Mercedes. Seconds later, Jared pops in behind the wheel.

"Are you okay?" Jared turns around concerned.

I don't even try to conceal my feelings. Tears are pouring out, and I can hardly breathe to respond. "Let's go," I choke out.

"Where to?" his chocolate eyes grow wide.

"Just drive!"


	21. Chapter 21

The trial starts soon and anxiety is in the air. It can be felt in everyone from the cooks to the constant stream of lawyers in and out of the house.

Michael's family has been over a lot now too, which for me has made everything a little bit more complicated. They talk to me and ask me things expecting me to know the answer but half the time I don't know what to respond. He seems less agitated around me when they're around. I get to see slight smiles, hold his gaze momentarily and brush past him slowly. It's these moments that I've lived for recently, because somewhere deep in his dark eyes I have to believe that he does too.

Even his mother who I know he is close to commented on how withdrawn he has become.

"_He hardly hears a word I say,_" my mother in law complains, tears staining her cheeks.

"_He's like that with me too, Katherine._"

In the evening, most family has gone home and Michael remains barricaded in his study, working the same excruciatingly long hours right along with his lawyers. The white haired man, I learned _is _his new lawyer along with an attractive and petite Asian woman, Geragos apparently being tossed aside which is quite unfortunate. I wonder what he did.

I'm up in my room, still anxious and fidgety. I see my cell phone quietly sitting on my night stand. I pick it up and dial Jared's number absentmindedly.

"Hey Christina," he answers cheerfully. "Did you need to go somewhere?"

"Hey Jared." I hear the clinking of dishes in the background as well as the mumble of a crowd. "Are you busy? I'm so sorry, I can call back."

"No! It's okay," he interrupted. "I just came to a restaurant for a bite to eat."

I feel even worse. "Oh, you're _eating. _Go ahead and eat. I didn't actually really need anything. Just called to say hi I guess. See what you were doing. I'll let you eat now," I ramble on.

"Really, Christina, it's okay. I thought you might need to go somewhere, but, if… you'd like, you're more than welcome to join me."

"I've already interrupted you enough," I hesitate.

"No, no interruption at all," he says cordially.

"Well, I guess I _am _going to need that ride then."

* * *

"Thanks for inviting me, I really needed some time away from that place," I admit, surprisingly at ease in a booth in the old fashioned Italian restaurant with its dim yellow lighting and stained glass ceiling lamps.

"Anytime," Jared responds lightheartedly, his eyes wide and his smile big. "So how've you been? I haven't driven you anywhere for a while. It was a few months ago when I last saw you, and you were crying your eyes out."

Ashamed I look down into my plate of chicken fettuccine alfredo. "Oh yeah."

It is one of the lowest points since I've been at Neverland, and it's been almost a year. It's hard to take so much rejection from someone you care about.

"Things are better I hope," Jared chimes.

"Actually things are about the same." His expression changes into one of surprise. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"What do you mean?"

I open my mouth to respond, feeling the urge to spill out everything I'm thinking but I stop myself. What if I can't trust him?

It seems like he sensed my uneasiness. "It's okay; you don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but you know you might feel better if you did." He reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine. "Just know that I'm here if you ever need to talk." He leans back again in the booth. "One person can't carry _everything_ on their shoulders. Just know you can trust me, okay?"

Now my expression is one of surprise. I smile. "Thanks, Jared. I really appreciate it."

As his words sink in, I feel a tear run down my cheek. One person really _can't _carry everything on their own, can they? And something inside of me tells me I can trust Jared.

"He didn't used to be this way," I start, my gaze focusing on some unimportant object in the distance. "He was fun, and caring and loving. Neither of us really wanted what happened to us, at the time I don't think either of us realized it was happening, and when we let go, it was so beautiful, Jared. I can't even begin to tell you. It made you kind of wonder why it wasn't always that way from the beginning."

Jared's face was in his hands, his elbow propped up onto the table. "Wow, a true love story."

"It was so short lived though. Things that seem too good to be true usually are." Silence surrounds our table as I search for the words to continue my story.

"The allegations against him started. He changed the very day of the raid. He just shut down. It seems like behind his eyes he's just empty. A shell of what he was. It hurts so much to see him like that. He seems like he's so strong, but he's really not." Tears are flowing freely now, and I grab my fabric napkin from off my lap and brush the tears away. We are in a restaurant after all.

"People who look strong are usually the most sensitive," he points out.

"Exactly. And ever since then he's squeezed me out of his life, he won't let me be there for him. He either disappears and is never home or is locked up with his lawyers. It's been like this a year now! And it hurts not to be able to be there for him, and it hurts to be shoved aside like that. I don't get it, Jared. And on top of all that I feel so _guilty _for being so _selfish_!"

I throw my face in my hands giving up any attempt to hold it together. I hear Jared slide next to me on my booth and his surprisingly strong arms wrap around me.

"You're not being selfish, Christina."

"How can you say that Jared?" My voice shakes. "Just look at what he's going through!"

"Christina," he soothes. "And you're not going through anything?"

I don't know how to answer that. I look up at him.

"Can I give you an observation?"

I wipe my face again in my napkin. "What," I encourage.

"That day, you know, the last time I saw you, I don't know what he said to you to make you cry, but he looked tortured doing it."

"Tortured?"

"Look, I know it's none of my business, but I would think since he's going through some hard times he would _want _your support. _Need _it even. I don't know. But something's going on there. Something's not right."

My eyes pop open in understanding. "You're right!"

He smirks. "Of course I'm right."

He's right on target. I know what I have to do. I have to fight for my man.

* * *

Today is the first day of trial. Michael's looking sharp and surprisingly relaxed considering the circumstances. The entire family is here, all in white ready to stand by their sibling. I am dressed in white as well, which earns a few raised eyebrows from Michael. The family naively revealed to me their plans, not ever dreaming that I would be forbidden to go. I had asked him a few days ago if I would be going, and he abruptly answered, '_no_.'

But he doesn't know the trick I have up my sleeve. I have Jared waiting for me down the road, and when he sees the parade of cars drive past, he'd rush and pick me up and I'd be waiting.

We did just that, and it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to get past the barricade of police officers and media outside the courthouse. Fortunately I was recognized right away.

"I'll be here when you get back," Jared calls out after me.

* * *

Everyone wanted to stick around the house and talk, but there was court again in the morning so Michael gave everyone a place to stay. They would all return to court together tomorrow. He's so lucky that he has so many people that care about him; here and around the world.

There is a knock at my bedroom door, and as I open it, Michael barges in forcing the door open, and it slams against the wall. He then slams it shut.

"Christina," he says in a hushed but obviously angry tone. "_Why _did you go?"

"I wanted to be there for you, Michael. You never let me."

"Right. I _told _you not to come."

I throw my hands up in the air. "But _why_, Michael? Why?"

He doesn't answer me, and starts pacing. It looks like he's wants to say something, but doesn't.

"Just go away, Christina." He rushes out of my room, and I hear the door to his room slam shut.

I stand frozen. Did he just tell me to go away? Why would he want me to go away? What did I do? Tears stream out of my already swollen blue eyes. How could he say that to me? Why does he let everyone else in but not me? There are too many unanswered questions, and I'm tired of being avoided. I'm going in for some answers.

Good thing I know Michael's security code for his bedroom door and I slip right in. He is face down on his bed, his face as drenched with tears as mine is. That surprises me to see. He looks up when I close the door.

"I told you I'm not going away. I'm going to be here even if times are tough. Face it, Michael, you're stuck with me."

He gets up, wiping his tears off his face, his countenance suddenly stone. He walks toward me stopping only inches from me. If he's trying to intimidate me, it's not working. "Christina…"

"Michael, stop pushing me away," I demand.

He sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. "I'm not pushing you away."

"You are! I know it sounds selfish, but I can't help how I feel. Let me be there for you. Let yourself be loved!"

He backs up a bit. "I've lost everything, I might as well lose you too," he whispers almost inaudibly. But I heard it.

"What?"

He looks at me, his eyes determined again. "You're making this harder than it has to be."

"_You _may think you're invincible and you don't need anybody, but you're just like everyone else. All you are is meat and bone. If you don't take care of yourself…"

Another sigh. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No, Michael, I'm not."

He swallows. "Christina, all we are is a business contract, that's all. There is no me and you. We are nothing."

"What?"

He backs up even further. "I don't want you around."

"What?" I croak. "What are you talking about? Then… what about Vegas? The time we spent there, the dancing, what you said to me, the night that we spent together?" Now I'm pacing his room. I find the bed and sit on it. "You said you wouldn't hurt me," I say softly, feeling defeated, my heart breaking.

I wait for him to respond, but he doesn't. He's staring at his shoes guiltily.

I get up and walk straight up to him, my face in his face. "Tell me it meant nothing to you," I demand.

He clears his throat, but doesn't meet my eye. "It meant nothing," he whispers. It was only because I was in his face that I heard him.

"MICHAEL, LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME IT MEANT NOTHING TO YOU!"

His eyes are still glued on the floor, and a pained expression spreads across his face. I wait for what seems like an eternity. His words cause a hole to open in my heart. I turn around reluctantly to exit his room. The only thing I want in this moment is for him to call my name, to tell me not to leave, that he can't live without me like I can't live without him.

The silence shatters my soul.


	22. Chapter 22

There aren't enough words to describe heartbreak, and even though there have been countless songs written in dedication to it; it is simply a feeling that can't be easily explained. Heartbreak is quite the literal word, I've found. It describes an actual breaking sensation; an extremely painful ache in the middle of the chest where the heart used to be, but is now shattered into a million sharp little pieces. It's no wonder that before the development of modern science people believed our hearts ruled our mind and bodies. Sometimes I can't help but agree.

I curl up in my bed as has been my custom for a week or two. I've found that standing upright makes the pain worse and although I hold my hand to my chest to help dull the ache I end up back in bed exactly how I started. For the most part I've given up trying.

I ask myself repeatedly why I let myself feel this way. Michael and I had spent so little time together romantically. Why did I let myself fall? Why did I let any of this happen?

_Why?_

I had protected myself from this type of thing for so long after seeing people around me break after their relationships crumbled and I swore to myself it would never happen to me.

What is it about Michael that draws me in? I am drawn in almost against my will. This stupid contract is what all my woes have originated from, I just know it. Michael's big plan will be the death of me, and I don't even know exactly what it is. I just have to silently play my part in it.

Everybody has just left for court today. I count the days by when everyone leaves for court; it's how I keep track that another day has passed. I sleep most of the day; it's the only activity that numbs me somewhat.

My cell phone, which I keep underneath my pillow starts ringing unexpectedly. I do keep it there just in case, but I never actually thought it would ring. My heart races, startled.

After I pick up, I fail to say a greeting into the receiver. "Hey Christina," Jared's smooth voice calls. All I can do to respond is sigh.

"Is everything okay?" _No Jared, it's not. That man I fell in love with, my first love, has broken my heart. Everything is not okay._

Jared responds to my silence with a sigh of his own. "Hey, let's go out and eat again or something," he suggests.

"No, I appreciate it, but everyone's at trial, I'm sure someone will be watching what I'm doing."

"Oh," he says sounding a little defeated. The sound of his disappointment is disheartening.

"Why don't you come over and cheer me up. There's no one here."

"I'll be over in half an hour!" he exclaims.

Sure enough, security calls in exactly half an hour with Jared's arrival. I really look like a mess when I answer the front door and let Jared in.

"What happened to you, did you get hit by a bus or something?"

That at least gets a smile out of me. "Worse."

"What can be worse than getting hit by a bus?"

I laugh. "You have no idea." I lead him into the kitchen wearing my pink plaid pajama bottoms and pink long-sleeved shirt. Jared looks sharp in his blue buttoned up shirt with black jeans and, as always, that pristine smile.

"You want anything to drink, water, soda, juice?"

"Juice, please. I only have juice on special occasions, and I consider this a special occasion."

"Really?"

"Yeah, this is the first time you invited me into your house," he says excitedly, his eyes roaming around the kitchen.

"But, why juice on special occasions?" I can't help the smirk that forms on my face.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "It's just my thing."

Finding a carton of orange juice in the refrigerator, I retrieve a glass from the cupboard and pour Jared a glass of the cold liquid. I set the glass on the table in front of him.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on? You look like hell," he asks sipping his juice, taking a seat in one of the stools in the huge kitchen. I look down ashamed. I knew I looked awful, but one thing is knowing that fact and another thing is being told it.

"Jared," I start, not knowing how to begin. "To make a long story short, Michael told me that we are through," I blurt out, blowing out air that I didn't know I had been holding in.

"What? Oh my God, Christina!" he exclaims, immediately getting up, going around the kitchen island and wrapping his arms around me. Just feeling those strong arms envelop me makes break down in sobs.

Jared rubs my back soothingly. "It'll get better, I promise."

"Right now it seems like the world is going to end." Jared kisses my forehead and hugs me just a little tighter. I look up at him. "I sense you've been through this too, haven't you?"

"A break up, yes, but not a divorce. I've never been married. They say a divorce is hard."

I back away and put my hand to my head, frustrated. Not with Jared, just with my whole situation. It's just too complicated to explain, since I don't really understand it well myself. "Well, we're not divorcing exactly."

"Huh?"

I lean back on the counter and wipe away stray tears from my face. "Um, all I can say is that it's complicated, but no, we're not divorcing."

"So, separating then?" he guesses, obviously trying to make sense of the situation.

"I don't know what to call it, really."

"I went through a bad breakup a few years ago," he reminisces after a few seconds of reflection.

"Really?"

"Yeah, me and my ex were together for a couple of years. I thought we were going to be together forever." He shakes his head. "Then one day she breaks up with me for no clear reason. I begged her to tell me why, what I had done so we could fix things you know, but she would never give me a straight answer," he remembers staring blankly in front of him.

I'm stunned. It feels like he took the experience right out of my heart. "I guess you can say that you know how I feel then," I say with a pathetic smile.

"So you're separating but not divorcing. Are you moving out?"

"Um, no…"

"Okay, well how about we get your mind off of things for a little bit?" He cheers with a clap of his hands.

"That's what you're here for, Jared." We both laugh as we head to the media room, Jared's friendly arm around my shoulders.

We are all laughs all day. It was refreshing to be out of the slums and it was just what I needed. We were joking about anything and everything the two of us laid eyes on.

"It's really nice to say the least to have you around when the only friend I've known for a while was my pillow."

"Christina, you know I'll always be around when you need someone."

My heart which I thought was frozen solid seems to warm a little at that thought. "Thanks, Jared." I hop up and give him a deserved bear hug.

"Ugh, you're crushing me!"

I let go and punch him playfully on the arm. "Shut up! You've got millions of muscles under there! How in the world could I possibly crush you?"

Amidst our laughter I hear the sound of the front door opening and a group of people entering the house. Panicked, I turn to Jared and pull him towards the stairs.

"What?!"

"They're home!" I shriek, practically dragging him up the stairwell. "Let's go in my room, they're home from the trial!"

Closing my bedroom door behind us, we stand in silence for a bit catching our breaths, Jared with his hands on his knees, and I'm trying to process what is happening. I just hope no one saw us.

"What was that about?" I laugh and slap him roughly on the arm. "What's wrong if they see us?"

Not a second later my bedroom door shoots open hitting my left arm, sending a sharp pain all the way through it. "Ow!" I yelp, grabbing the wounded appendage.

Jared takes a step back, obviously startled. Michael's angry eyes find me instantly. "Tell me what that just was," he hisses in a low but angry tone. He flashes a look at Jared. "You. Running up the stairs with your chauffeur. My whole family saw it."

"I don't know what to say, I…"

"Christina, come on, I'm on trial and you're up behind closed doors with this guy?"

"You told me not to go support you. You told me to go away! So I did, Michae!" He rolls his eyes.

"Wait a minute…" Jared interrupts.

"No you wait a minute." Michael fumes pointing a finger in Jared's direction. "Everyone saw you guys. Everyone saw you and my wife run up the stairs together. We gotta tell them something. Come on, go out there with me and tell them something." He urges grabbing my hurt left arm, which I shake out of his grip.

"First of all, you just hit my arm with that door and it hurts, Michael. And second, I am not going out there. They've never needed me before and they're not going to start needing me now."

"For God sakes, Christina what am I supposed to tell them?"

"You can figure that out for yourself." I retire from both, upset, into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

"Hey," Jared said in a whisper, who I call on his cell phone after hours of mustering courage to talk to him after the incident with Michael earlier today.

I sigh in response. "I'm not even going to ask how it's going."

"Yeah, I'm sorry you had to see that."

"And I'm sorry you have to go through that. I don't like it. I don't see how you can't do something about it. That isn't a healthy situation to be in."

If only Jared knew the circumstances, but there's no way of telling him. But he's right; it's not a healthy situation for anyone involved. I don't even want to think about it.

"But I didn't call you to talk about what happened, Jared."

"What's up then?" he replies with a tone of worry.

"I wanted to thank you.

"Thank me? Thank me for what?"

"Thank you for getting me out of bed today."

I wonder if he has any idea the significance of that simple little thing.


	23. Chapter 23

**Christina's P.O.V.**

As the wind blows through my hair underneath a shaded tree in Neverland's unending lands, I unwrap an egg salad sandwich from its napkin wrapping and hand it to Jared. "Tell me a picnic wasn't the greatest idea I've ever had. Like ever." I say, unwrapping another egg salad sandwich for myself and taking a big bite.

"Ooh, egg salad. How did you know I love egg salad," Jared asks ogling at his sandwich.

"I pay attention when people say things to me."

He giggles between bites. He looks like a little kid the way he eats with such enthusiasm.

"I've brought something for you," he beams. Putting his sandwich on the clichéd red and white picnic blanket, he reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a deck of cards and hands it to me.

"Oh. Wow," I say, examining the deck in my hands, "it's just what I've always wanted." I say with a sarcastic tone.

"I challenge you to a friendly game of poker with the poker master. Me!" he exclaims.

I raise my eyebrows. "The poker master? Really? I'll have you know I once beat a high roller in Vegas."

"Shut up."

I cackle. "Seriously!"

"Okay, then try your luck with me," Jared challenges, shuffling the deck of cards and we a play a game.

"That wasn't fair Jared!" I protest, embarrassed at my awful poker skills. I must have just gotten lucky that time in Vegas.

"Ha ha!" he exclaims. "You'll never beat me!"

After a pause, the smile washes off of my face and I sigh loudly. "I guess I better head back to the house. They'll be coming home from the trial soon," I say despairingly, thinking of my in-laws.

Jared recoils. "I hate when the time for you to leave comes. You get all serious and sour."

"Well yeah, I remember what's waiting for me at home. At least while I'm with you I can forget about all that for a while." My mind races with images of Michael's abundant family members chattering away while a stern Michael heads for his bedroom, not bothering to acknowledge anyone present. My heart burns every time that happens and I am in his wake.

Jared stands up next to me and puts his hands over my crossed arms gently. "Christina, I still don't get why you don't get yourself out of this situation."

"What do you mean? That's why I'm here with you," I say satirically with a slight grin on my face.

But Jared's expression remains unchanged. "I mean, just get a divorce; leave that situation behind you. You should see what I see whenever you start talking about that… _place_."

"I know…"

"Why don't you just stay here with me, or come and stay at my apartment?"

"I can't stay with you!"

"At least stay here until they've all gone," he suggests shrugging.

I reflect for a moment. "I know some of them stay the night, but I suppose my presence isn't really needed that much. I guess…"

Jared's eyes light up. "Good! Now get your behind back here and prepare to be beaten again by the poker master!" he exclaims, sitting down and grabbing the deck of cards to shuffle.

"With pleasure," I retort, feeling a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders.

**Michael's P.O.V.**

Today's testimony was more than unbearable. The mother of my accuser was on the stand today. She lied through her teeth as usual, that witch. Almost all of the things she said weren't true, and what was true was grossly exaggerated.

This trial has left me overwhelmed physically, mentally and emotionally. The noise of my family's post-trial commentary doesn't help my situation either. I know they're trying to comfort me, but honestly it just gets on my nerves.

This is what I get, though, for letting people see me as weak. After the Bashir humiliation, things got bad; but this? This is a million times worse! I had my plan, it was going to fix things, but I got my emotions too entangled in it. That was my fault. But I couldn't help it! Damn you Christina! Why did you have to come to me at a time like this? Why do I have to love you _now_? Things could have been so much simpler!

Our limo pulls up to the front door of the house and the chatter of my mother, Jermaine and Janet is background noise and is drowned out by my thoughts. My heart drops as I notice Christina's silver Mercedes parked by the side of the house. That means she is here, and that dreadful chauffer is here with her.

I rush into the house and at once I perceive it to be unusually quiet. That's odd; she's usually here waiting to receive us. She must be in her room. As usual, I make my way towards my room, having to pass by Christina's on the way. But as I do, I notice her door wide open, which is unusual when she is inside it.

She's not here_. Where is she?_

I hear a faint voice calling my name while punching in the code to my bedroom. Maybe its mother, maybe it's Janet, I don't care. Feeling the heat of anger burning my face, I slam the door behind me.

**Christina's P.O.V.**

Tossing the ham and cheese omelet in the frying pan of the makeshift kitchen in my bedroom, I hear a knock coming from my door across the room.

_Please don't let it be him. Please don't let it be him._

And _him_ it is. Michael walks into the room and delicately shuts the door behind him. His face is serious, his black curls are tied in a low pony tail, and he's looking as striking as always in his blue button up shirt and black slacks. I have to look away, just seeing him is painful; being alone with him is plain agonizing.

"It smells good in here," he says politely, scratching his nose, his eyes not leaving the floor.

"Thank you." I respond dryly, placing my omelet in a white plate and sitting down at a table next to the window overlooking the vast expanse of Neverland's lands. I look down to my plate disparagingly. For as hungry as I was five minutes ago, suddenly my appetite seems hundreds of miles away.

"What do you want Michael?" My gaze remains on my omelet; I can't bear to look at him.

He exhales noisily. "I want to know where you were yesterday."

"Yesterday?" I spin around in my chair, and fold my arms. "Why?" I probe, narrowing my eyes.

"You weren't here yesterday, so where were you?" He demands.

"I was having a picnic on the grounds," I respond, standing up and walking towards him until I am only three feet away, arms still folded.

"Oh really," he says cynically, now folding his arms himself.

"Really."

"And with whom might I ask? No, let me guess; that vile driver of yours."

"Ha! And if I told you I _was_ with Jared? Why? Are you jealous?"

"Jared… Jared… how dare you say his name to me." He throws his hands in the air and paces the room. "And if I told you I _was_ jealous? Would you get yourself another driver?"

"No."

He stops pacing and walks up to me, his face inches from mine. I get a hint of Michael's strong perfume which causes butterflies to fly all around my stomach. My heart beat thumps in my chest. I swear even Michael can hear it.

"Listen. You should have been here last night when we got home. It looks bad. Make sure you're there Monday," he communicates just above a whisper.

"Okay, Michael," I hiss. "I'll play the part for you."

He blinks fast as if I had just spit in his face.

Michael backs up towards the door. "Remember, you're bound by contract. You _have _to play the part." He opens the door and backs out of the room slowly. "And that driver of yours," he says dangerously, "is no longer allowed on my property."

**Christina's P.O.V.**

Michael's loyal fans howl animatedly as they see me make the long trek from behind the hill that hides the house to the little guard house at the front gate. The roar only escalates when I wave at them as Jared pulls up in the short circular drive. Jared escorts me past the fans to the car where he already had the door opened, and closed it after me. He is behind the wheel in no time.

"Where to in such a hurry? And _why_ are we in the street?" Jared asks through the rearview mirror, donning a bashful smile as we drive off of Neverland's property.

I let out a very heavy sigh. "Everything just got from very complicated to downright impossible! That man is _impossible_!" I lament again. "Can we go to that restaurant or to your apartment or something?"

A worried look spreads across Jared's face. "I don't think so Christina; there are three cars behind us that have been following us since we left Neverland. Why don't we just go back?"

"We can't." I take an urgent look behind us. "Where else can we go?"

Jared pulls up to a gated house with large bushes surrounding the entire property. He lowers the window, punches in a code and we glide in.

"This is my mother's house. It's the only place I could think of."

"It's perfect, thank you."

He parks under a shady car park on the side of the turn-of-the-century house. As any gentleman would, he goes to the back of the car and opens my door for me. "We can go inside if you like."

"No, thank you." I scoot over. "Let's stay in the car. I don't really feel like talking to anyone, sorry," I admit, rubbing my forehead.

"I can leave you alone if you want," he jokes sitting down in the vacant spot next to me, and closes the car door.

I poke him in the chest. "I want to talk to _you_, silly."

"What's going on, Christina," he questions.

"Guess what? You've been banned from Neverland." I can't help but laugh at how that sounds when I say it. "And it appears that Mr. Jackson is jealous of you, Jared." I roll my eyes.

His eyes grow wide. "Of me?" I nod. "Well, I don't blame him really."

"You don't?"

"No, not really. But he deserves it. He treats you like crap. Would you be here with me otherwise? Sometimes I want to punch the guy in the face." He makes a fist and punches the air playfully.

I snicker. "He's not a bad guy, it's just… I don't know how to explain things. And I would be with you otherwise. You're a great person."

"Yeah, great person, right. If you weren't married…"

"If I weren't married… what?"

Jared caresses my cheek. "You have no idea how many times I've fought back the urges to kiss you, Christina. You're an amazing woman. You don't deserve what you put yourself through."

I look down to my lap. "I… don't know what to say."

"It's hard to be just your friend. But you're a married woman. I don't want to cause you any trouble."

"You aren't the one who causes me trouble, Jared," I say softly.

"I think, maybe, you should get another driver, Christina."

"What? No!"

He takes my hand in his and with his other hand pushes back a tear that has escaped onto my cheek. "Don't you get it? I have feelings for you. It's wrong. I feel so guilty. This is wrong."

"Don't _you_ get it? You're the only person in the world I've got! Don't abandon me too!" I cry, tears flowing steadily down my face.

He holds me tightly against him, my tears soaking his white shirt. He lets me sob as long as I need to. All the while that I am in Jared's arms, I reflect on what he confessed to me. He has feelings for me. I don't know how I feel though; I am not sure if I have any feelings left to feel with. I look up at him; his affectionate gaze looks back at me, wipes tears from my cheeks and kisses my forehead. I know I need him. I need Jared desperately. Could things get any more complex than this?


	24. Chapter 24

The white golf cart is waiting for me next to the guard house when Jared drops me off at the front gate of Neverland. The evening is cool, the trees and foliage are blowing noisily in the wind and the stars are lighting up the ranch perfectly.

Michael's ever-vigilant fans yell enthusiastically as I jump into the cart and drive off towards the house hidden behind the hill. The fans are always waiting at the gate, hopeful for a glimpse of their beloved star, but ever since the trial started their numbers are larger. The ones out here tonight hold signs of love and support. If only Michael could understand how much he is loved by not only his family but by the world.

It's late and I'm shivering. I park the cart and run into the warm house and jump up the stairwell, dreaming of my room and my cozy blankets.

"_Where have you been_?" a voice demands, which stops me in my tracks. I turn around, I see my fuming sister in law Janet jump up from the sofa in the living room.

Frozen and shocked, I watch her march towards me, her dark eyes burning in anger. She scares the hell out of me. "Wha-at?" I whimper.

"So I ask my brother where you are, he says he doesn't know." She demands, her head flailing. I stutter in response; when Janet is angry it's very hard to get a word in edgewise. I feel like I have to explain the situation to her and redeem myself.

_God help me. _

"I said, what do you mean you don't know? Where is she, Michael?" she continues throwing her hands into the air. "And do you know what he said? He said that she'd probably be with her boyfriend the chauffer!" Her face is as red as a tomato. "What's wrong with you, Christina? Don't you have any idea what he's going through?"

Tears start to stream down my face. Of course I know what he's going through. What am I supposed to do? "Look Janet…"

"No, don't you 'look Janet' me, because I don't want to hear it."

I turn away from her and resume my path up the staircase defeated and unwilling to listen to any more abuse. I can understand where she's coming from, however misdirected and mistaken her ire may be. But why all the fighting? I can't stand it anymore.

"You better get it together woman. You hear me?" Janet yells up the stairway.

I didn't think anything could snuff my burning enthusiasm at setting things straight with Michael, but it was extinguished after marching into his room and laying eyes on him sitting on the floor Indian style looking solemnly out of his window. He didn't even turn to acknowledge my presence when I entered.

"Michael, we need to talk."

He is as still as a statue, his tearstained eyes are glued on the glass and his bare arms hugging his legs covered in his blue pajama bottoms. I let another tear fall at the heartbreaking sight; of the broken man I loved, and the memory of his happy smile and contagious laughter seem so far away that sometimes I wonder if I have dreamed it all.

"Michael," I say in a softer tone. "Michael, we really need to talk."

"What do you want," he responds dryly.

I enter deeper into the room. "I can't do this anymore."

He turns and looks at me sharply, his eyes piercing. He turns again to the window. "You have to."

Raindrops start to fall of the windowpane. Michael's eyes fall to the floor as well. "I know I have to, Michael, but you're making my life impossible!"

Michael responds only by lifting his eyes and staring out of the window.

"Do you realize your sister just bit my head off out there? I don't have any clue how I'm supposed to defend myself! I'm supposed to be your wife, but you won't let me get near you. I try to make friends, but you won't let them visit me."

"It looks bad, Christina."

"Jared's a great guy, Michael."

"Yeah, some guy. All he's trying to do is get in your pants when he thinks you're married. What a great guy."

"He's not trying to get in my pants," I roll my eyes. "We just talk and he keeps me company."

"It looks bad, okay?"

"_Why_?"

"Because you're married to ME!" he declares, jumping up from the floor. He crosses his arms awkwardly and tears fall down his cheek.

"Michael…" I reach out and touch his arm gently.

"I'm human okay? How do you think seeing you with him makes me feel? I _do_ have feelings, you know?"

"But you said…"

He puts his hands to his face, and falls towards me. I hold out my arms to hold him. I completely understand his desperation.

But I wasn't expecting the whole of his body weight to fall on to me and we fall to the floor, Michael's full body weight on top of me.

"Ouch, Michael! Michael, get off of me!" But he doesn't move. "Michael?"

I slide out from under him as carefully as I can. "Michael? Michael!" I nudge and shake him as if I was trying to wake him up from a deep sleep, but he doesn't respond.

Running out of the bedroom in a panic, the first person I run into is Janet. "Janet, it's Michael," I pant frantically. "He's fainted and he won't wake up!"

"Oh my God!" she screams and follows me up the stairs, where Luisa is standing holding a feather duster. She grabs Luisa's arm and hauls her with us towards Michael's bedroom. "Oh my God," Janet repeats when she enters and sees Michael on the floor. She runs up to his side, immediately putting her fingers to his neck and her head to his chest.

"He's breathing and has a pulse," she confirms to Luisa, who lets out a cry when she sees him. Michael then seems to stir from his unconsciousness; his hands clench and unclench and his eyes flutter slightly.

Janet takes him into her arms, and with tears free flowing down her cheeks she turns to me ands screams, "What did you say to him you heartless wench?"

"I told him from the beginning that she was no good, but Mr. Jackson would not listen," Luisa chimes, putting in her worthless two cents while kneeling on the floor next to Janet.

"Let's get him to the hospital." Janet declares and turns to me. "Well, are you coming or not?"

The evening air in the Santa Maria hospital is cold and dreary. Luisa had not accompanied us, thank goodness. Janet had been livid all the way to the hospital, and Luisa wouldn't have helped my situation. After a half an hour, a doctor comes out and tells us that Michael is in stable condition. Janet does not hesitate at that comment, and jumps up to follow the doctor into Michael's room, leaving me shivering in the hallway. I wish I had thought to bring a sweater. But no one ever thinks clearly in these types of circumstances.

Not even ten minutes pass when Janet comes out of the room where Michael is resting. "Christina!" Her voice is threatening and her demeanor betrays her anger. I feel a horrible pain in the pit of my stomach. What did I do now?

"He is asking for you." She wags her finger in front of my face. "But if you upset him again, you will answer to me."

When I enter his room, a miserable looking Michael in hospital garb and laying in a bed stares in silence at a blank television screen. "How are you feeling?" I whisper, sitting in an empty chair beside his bed.

"Not feeling too good," he replies with a smirk, but his eyes remain fixed on the screen. It breaks my heart to see him like this, that whatever he has in his heart has him so weak that he can hardly hold his head up and is confined to his bed. I reach for his hand, and he receives mine with a surprisingly strong squeeze. He intertwines our fingers, and resting my head on his arm I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

Night turns into day. The phone by the hospital bed rings and wakes both of us up. I unravel our fingers and reach for the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Who's this, where's Michael? This is his lawyer, Tom Mesereau, let me speak to Michael!"

"Okay, okay, hold on!" Holding my hand over the phone I whisper to Michael, "Some guy says he's your lawyer and he wants to talk to you. Tom something-or-other."

"Mesereau, yeah. Give it to me." He puts the phone to his ear. "Hello," he listens intently. The lawyer on the other line sounds pretty upset from where I'm sitting.

"Tom, I can't go. I'm at the hospital right now. Yeah, uh, I fell and I hurt my back pretty bad, and the doctors are still..." He didn't finish his sentence apparently being cut off by that lawyer.

"But Tom, _I'm at the hospital." _I can hear Tom bickering on the other end.

"Fine." Michael hands me the receiver and I hang it up, returning my gaze to him, concerned.

"What the hell just happened? Is everything okay?" I ask.

"I have to be at the courthouse within the hour, or the judge will revoke my bail. Three million dollars, Christina. Three million dollars."

"What? Within the hour? All you brought with you is your pajamas! How are you going to go back to Neverland and change? You'll never get there on time!"

"Well I better get changed then. Tom already has a car here to pick me up." He says somberly, as pulls the sheets off of him and throws his legs off of the bed.

"Michael," I beg, "please let me come with you. Please."

His tilts his head down and sobs softly. Tears stream down his face. "No." he chokes. "No, please don't go."

I put my hand to his cheek and wipe away the stream of tears. "Okay. I'll go and get the doctor then."

The ride back to Neverland is in complete and contemplative silence. Jared pulls up to the iron gates, gets out and opens my door. I look up at him, his eyes hungry for some sort of explanation. Tears build up in my eyes, and Jared breaks our stare as if my tears were explanation enough for him. I enter the gate, and walk very long driveway towards the house, since my golf cart was not waiting for me at the access. Once I reach the hill that hides the house from the front gate, I turn one last time, and find Jared still standing where I left him, watching me, his eyes never having left me.


	25. Chapter 25

**Christina's P.O.V.**

When Michael returns home from the trial he finds me sitting on his bed waiting for him. By the slight change in his expression I can tell he is surprised to see me, but his over all demeanor remains downright glum. He is still in the pajamas he was forced to wear to court in the morning and over them he is wearing a black sport coat. His posture is hunched and his hair is a mess. He's far from his usual immaculately groomed self.

I know the question need not be asked, but I decide to ask anyway. "So… how'd it go?"

He shuffles towards me and hops on the bed putting his feet up. He sighs heavily.

"Awful. I was a spectacle out there today." he replies monotonously, looking straight ahead of him.

No matter how hard I wrack my brain I can't find any words to console him. Michael starts to weep softly, turning his face as if he were trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

"Now you see why I don't want you to come with me?"

"To be honest, I don't. I wish you would let me come. I feel so useless being stuck here and not being able to do anything."

"That's the thing, Christina. You couldn't do anything, anyway. It'd just be a million times worse."

"Worse? How would I make things worse?" I wrinkle my brow.

He turns toward me animatedly. "Look at me. I'm losing it! I don't want to be seen as weak. I don't want _you_ to see me as weak. I'm tired of being stepped on." He makes a tight fist in frustration.

Turning towards him, I look him straight in the eye. "Michael, no one could call you weak. You're the strongest person I know."

"Yeah." He rolls his eyes. "Right."

"I'm not kidding. I don't know anyone who can handle all of this insanity, and handle it twice, and still be standing to keep on fighting."

"I've survived _a lot_ of battles," he pauses and says softer than before, "but I don't know if I'll survive the war."

"You will, Michael. You will." Stroking his cheek where his tears had been falling a few moments earlier, I look deep into his big brown eyes. "Don't focus on the madness_. People love you_. Focus on them." His expression softens. After a few seconds that seemed to me like hours, I declare, "_I_ love you."

**Michael's P.O.V.**

Aside from everything that has been going wrong in my life, there has always been a place in my heart for philanthropy. It's one of the few things aside from my own children that have kept me sane these past few years. The need to help others is something that has always been deeply engrained in me, into my very soul, and is what ultimately drove me to make the decision that I made today.

Christina and I look out of the windows of my second floor circular loft in my bedroom. In the three hundred sixty degree view, we can see a group of about one hundred people walk into the main train station, which is on the chief road that is closest to the house. From where we are, we can see them all very clearly; there are men women and children, most in summer clothes hopping up the steps of the train station and into the cars.

"There are so many people down there!" Christina notes. I nod my head, wishing I could be down there with them. "It was very nice of you to have them come," she continues.

"It's the least I could do. It's not their fault all that is happening." Considering the fact that the invitation to the Big Sister Club of Los Angeles had been sent out over a year ago, just the thought of letting these kids down breaks my heart.

"So what are they going to be doing today?" Christina asks.

"They're being given a tour of Neverland. They'll get to see the animals, go to the petting zoo, play games, go on the rides and have a meal. I'm trying to give them just one day of fun, a few hours where they can be happy and carefree until they have to go back to their reality."

"That is awesome." Christina pauses. "But it must get expensive after awhile, mustn't it? All the free games, candy, food, and all it takes to take care of the animals must cost a pretty penny."

"But it is so worth it, Christina." She nods in agreement and we watch as the last person boards the train. It starts to move slowly along the tracks.

After a few hours, Christina and I hop onto one of the white golf carts and head up the main road all the way to the other end of the ranch where the elephants and giraffes are held.

Christina's phone rings. _Wait a minute; isn't her phone line is just for me?_ "Who is it," I ask curiously.

She shoves the phone back into her sweater pocket. "I… uh.. it's Jared."

_Interesting._ I would have liked to have asked her why the hell Jared was still calling her, but our cart approaches a sea of people. They turn and glance our way.

"Hello everyone," I stutter shyly as I get out of the cart. The crowd comes in closer. Everyone is smiling. Nervous, I feel my hands shaking a bit.

"Hi Michael," everyone responds in unison. Wondering if Christina is as nervous as I am, I turn to her, and to my surprise she doesn't look uneasy at all. I find her sunny eyes on me, her smile filling me with warmth. I feel her hand close upon mine and my heart flutters.

Christina's P.O.V.

Michael's words _I don't want you to see me as weak, _keep ringing through my mind. What he wants is support, whether he realizes it or not, and I realize that I've been going about things the wrong way. And since I have been relentless in my efforts to support him, he has softened towards me a great deal. I almost think he is trying to sacrifice us and what we had together for _my_ sake. Maybe things had to happen this way for a reason. Who knows? I don't, that's for sure.

I've been waiting everyday for him in his room when he returns from trial. We do different things every day. Some days he wants to get his mind off of things, and others he wants to lay down in silence, but whatever he wants to do, we do together. Today I am thinking we could watch a movie. The new film "Finding Neverland" has just come out on DVD. I know Michael will love it; the Peter Pan story is the silhouette of his life. I don't mind seeing some Johnny Depp today myself. Smiling at that thought, I hide some candy and popcorn I have prepared under the bed to surprise Michael when my cell phone rings again.

I exhale. It's Jared again. It's been a while since I've talked to him, and he's probably worried, but I can't answer him now. Michael needs me. I wouldn't have a clue what to say to him anyway.

It's almost time for Michael to come home from trial, so after throwing my phone on the bed, I walk towards the window to see if the cars have arrived while singing the chorus of "Give in to Me" that happened to pop into my head at the moment.

"Please don't do that."

I whip around and see Michael bright red, cupping his hands to his face to cover laughter.

I whip my hand to my thumping heart. "Do what?"

"Sing!" he laughs.

"Well at least I made you smile, didn't I?" I can't help but laugh too. By the time he sits on the bed he hasn't stopped giggling.

"Why don't we change the subject, and watch a movie?"

"Okay," he laughs.

"Be quiet!" I demand, pushing play on the remote control.

"Oooh ´Finding Neverland´!"

I smile proudly. I knew he'd love it.

"But you know it's not a movie without popcorn and candy," he says as I hand him the popcorn and candy I had hidden skillfully under the bed.

"You had that under the bed?"

"Yep, ready and waiting for you!"

"And what if I had said I didn't want to watch a movie? What would you have done with all that stuff under the bed?" he jokes.

I shrug my shoulders. "Let it rot."

He laughs. "I guess I'll have to check under the bed more often!"

As the movie ends, my damn phone rings again. And as is just my luck, Michael is sitting right next to where I had thrown my phone earlier. And by his quickly souring face, I realized who is calling.

"_Him _again?" Michael accuses.

I blow a strand of hair out of my face. Grabbing the phone I press ignore. "I have no idea why he keeps calling."

"You really should have his number blocked," he suggests, rolling his eyes.

I don't know how I feel about pushing Jared out of my life forever. In these past two years I have been at Neverland, he has been the only friend I've had. Everyone else that surrounds Michael seem to despise me.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," I lie, if only to mend things with Michael that instant. "I'll do it in the morning."

Taking the DVD out of the player and putting it into its case, I'm thinking of anything I can to break the awkward silence that has engulfed the room.

"Hey, what do you say we get out of here? Maybe walk up the grounds and get some fresh air?"

Michael sighs. "Yeah, you know, that actually sounds like a good idea."

We walk slowly up the carefully laid stone paths in the warm late afternoon breeze. Michael seems preoccupied, understandably.

The sun sets by the time we reach the swings. We each take a swing, and swing ourselves in silence for a few minutes.

"You know, I still have that blue blazer you gave me here almost two years ago," I mention casually.

Michael smiled. "You do?"

"Yes." I blush. "I remember it like it was yesterday. We came here to get to know each other." The memory makes me smile.

"Yeah. I remember. I even remember what you were wearing."

"No you don't!"

"I do! Black sweatpants." He smiles wide.

"And I had just signed the contract."

The smile left his face. "Yeah."

"Are you ever going to explain that contract to me?"

He says nothing for a while. I take this as a no to my question, and kick the grass underneath my feet aimlessly.

"Things had been going wrong with my image for a long time," he starts softly. "People called me weird, people called me gay, and people called me eccentric. But I've never really felt that way about myself, you know? So I thought if people saw how I lived, they'd stop saying I was so weird. So I hired Bashir to come over and cover my life. I thought he was legit. I mean, he'd done Princess Diana before she died, so I thought if she trusted him, so could I."

We both sigh heavily.

"I wanted people to love me, I wanted to fix things, but no matter what I do or how hard I try, everything just gets worse and worse. So I thought to myself, people want me to be normal? I'll show them normal. I could put to rest almost ever rumor by just getting married."

"How would that fix things?"

"Well for one thing, people would stop saying I'm gay. Not that there's anything wrong with being gay, it's simply not true."

"And the other rumors?"

"As for the other rumors, it would show I was capable of having a normal relationship, a normal family; and if the marriage lasted at least five years, the better. It was something I had been thinking about for a while, but then after that stupid documentary I knew I had to make it happen. And then I saw you."

I have trouble processing that information. I'm not quite sure what to make of it.

"I thought it would all be so easy. But I don't know what happened. Things got complicated."

"How so?"

"I… started to have feelings for you," he declares looking at me straight in the eye. "I had planned everything so carefully, Christina. But I never expected this to happen."

Michael stands up from his swing and gently pulls me from mine. His large hands envelop my waist as he guides my body to his. He kissed me as hungrily as he'd never kissed me before.

"I love you, Christina. I _need_ you," he declares finally breaking his kiss to look at me drunk with passion.

"I love you too, Michael." His lips return to mine instantly and we stumble together blissfully on the grass oblivious to anything other than each other.


End file.
